After the multi-layered and rewarding 'Kinda', 'The Visitation' is a far more straightforward Doctor Who story and by comparison with its predecessor seems almost shallow. Nevertheless, it contains much to enjoy. 

The plot of 'The Visitation' is very simple; an alien spacecraft lands in an historical period of Earth, and its small number of occupants decides to exterminate the population so that they can have the planet for themselves. Rather like a cross between 'The Time Warrior' and 'Terror of the Zygons' in fact. Add to this one android, only a single supporting character of any real note, and some mind-controlled locals, and it all adds up to pretty standard fair. Nevertheless, this standard fair immediately evokes a feeling of traditional Doctor Who, and setting any kind of story produced by the BBC in a period setting virtually guarantees decent sets and costumes. 'The Visitation' is no exception, and whilst it lacks the depth of 'Kinda', it benefits from looking far more impressive, with an authentic looking mansion house, convincingly scruffy peasants, and some fine location filming. 

With very little characterisation of the various villages on display, the only real character of note aside from the principle villain is Richard Mace, a thespian come highwayman who almost steals the show. If I was feeling uncharitable, I might suggest that writer and new script-editor Eric Saward should have found the character easy enough to write for, as he apparently appeared in three BBC Radio 4 plays also penned by Saward, but the fact remains that he is a hugely entertaining character. Michael Robbins plays Mace with aplomb, bringing out the characters various characteristics (an amusing combination of alternating cowardice and courage, wit and bemusement) to great effect. In particular, Mace almost forms a double act with the Doctor which is great fun to watch, the former a man out of his depth and struggling to cope, the latter increasingly impatient with his new friend's struggle to grasp concepts new to him, including aliens, androids, and spaceships. The problem with Mace however, is that Saward seems so interested in writing for him that this has obvious repercussions for three of the regulars…

'The Visitation' is the first Davison story in which, for me, the excess of companions is painfully obvious. In 'Castrovalva', Adric's abduction by the Master sidelined him and allowed the story to focus more on Tegan and Nyssa, whereas in 'Four to Doomsday' and especially 'Kinda' Nyssa was to a greater or lesser extent kept in the background to allow the story focus on Adric and Tegan. Here, with Mace effectively acting as an additional companion and stealing some of the limelight, Saward juggles Tegan, Nyssa and Adric more or less equally, which actually makes it more obvious that he doesn't really know what to do with them than actually having one of them sleeping in the TARDIS for the duration of the story would. Nyssa admittedly gets to show off her scientific background by assembling the TARDIS' sonic booster and destroying the android, but for the most part the three of them take it in turns to either run around in search of each other and the Doctor, get captured, or follow the Doctor around so that he can explain the plot. On the other hand, whilst none of them get the chance to shine, none of them especially annoy; Adric inevitably comes close, but it goes without saying by this point that his character is childish, petulant, and obnoxious. Waterhouse is at least better here than in 'Kinda', although points are deducted for his unconvincing stumble when Adric sprains his ankle. In addition to all of this, the more irritating aspects of Saward's writing are on display here, although perhaps because Anthony Root is script-editor on this story, they are kept to a minimum; nevertheless, the early scenes in the TARDIS in which the Doctor and his companions recap plot elements from 'Kinda' for no good reason create a horrible soap-opera feel that will become increasingly evident during Saward's tenure as script editor. 

The main villain of 'The Visitation' is the Terileptil leader who is reasonably well scripted and who is convincingly acted by Michael Melia. The Terileptil leader is pretty aggressive, bad tempered character, and Melia conveys his short temper very effectively. Unfortunately, he's also a bit one-dimensional; Saward attempts to flesh out Terileptil culture by scripting lines about their dual obsession with art and war (the Terileptil leader objects to the idea of a life without grace and beauty) and he also makes it clear that the leader is an escaped convict who probably doesn't fairly represent all Terileptils, but it all feels like a bit of a token gesture. Having said that, the Terileptils' appreciation for art is reflected in the design of the android, which makes for a nice touch. It probably doesn't help that nowadays any alien race that it is ruthless but obsessed with honour automatically reminds me of a certain race from a popular American science fiction franchise that I'm none too fond of, but that is hardly Saward's fault… Despite all of this however, the Terileptil leader makes for a suitably nasty and ruthless villain, and he also benefits from a great costume, which makes early and effective use of animatronics in the series. Since I've mentioned the android, it also works well as a silent and impassive enforcer and its costume is impressive, save for the cricket gloves, which always look like exactly what they are. 

Finally, I should mention Peter Davison, whose performance here is one of my favourites in the role. He is increasingly frustrated and irascible throughout, which really gives the impression that all of the authority of most of his previous incarnations, plus a great deal of knowledge and experience, is trapped in too young a body. Unlike the Fourth Doctor, the Fifth seems to find it more difficult to inspire trust in his companions, possibly because he appears to be not that much older than they are. This is especially true in Episode Four, when he obviously grows tired of being constantly questioned by Adric and Tegan and frequently snaps. It is an interesting interpretation, and one that will remain in evidence throughout much of Davison's tenure in the role. Moreover, it is another reason why 'The Visitation', for all that it feels largely inconsequential, remains thoroughly pleasant to watch. And if none of that convinces you, it's worth watching for two other things: the Doctor starting the Great Fire of London, and the destruction of the sonic screwdriver!

It is perhaps ironic that having mildly criticized 'The Visitation' for being straightforward and almost inconsequential, I am about to praise 'Black Orchid' for the same reasons. It is one of the finest examples of a the two part format, a charming period tale with just enough of a plot to justify itself but far more to offer besides.

The plot of 'Black Orchid' essential concerns the horribly disfigured, mentally ill and love sick George Cranleigh, discoverer of the eponymous Black Orchid who has been kept secret and safe by his mother in the grandiose Cranleigh residence. He commits several murders, mistakes Nyssa for his lost love Ann Talbot, and then dies tragically. It is as simple as that, and fits the short length of the story without events seeming rushed. It works as a story because of the characters. It is hard not to feel sympathy with George, and the makeup used on Gareth Milne for the role makes him look both pathetic and horrifying. The decision by Lady Cranleigh and her other son Charles to keep George's ghastly predicament is entirely understandable given even the most basic grasp of what asylums at the time were like, and the fact that Ahmed Khalil's Ditoni refers to him as his friend emphasizes the fact that the Cranleigh's actions are motivated by compassion. 

But 'Black Orchid', whilst ultimately about George Cranleigh, manages to be about much more. For the first and only time, we get to see this TARDIS crew really relaxing. The Doctor gets to play cricket and has just taken a bath when the secret door in his room first sidetracks him. His companions get to dance and enjoy a party, which benefits them enormously; having decided to stay with the TARDIS crew for the moment, Tegan is far less bad tempered here than she can be, and seeing her smile as much as she does here and dance the Charleston with delight demonstrates how likeable she can be under the right circumstances. Even Adric is likeable here; with a need for only a limited emotional range, Matthew Waterhouse is adequate, and seeing the character greedily piling food high on his plate is a daft but welcome character moment that reminds us that he is basically a teenager, without resorting to portraying him as an obstreperous tosser. Nyssa, perhaps surprisingly, again gets little to do here, but Sarah Sutton of course gets the chance to show that she can in fact act, by also portraying Ann Talbot, a far more emotional character than the quiet, reserved Nyssa. The doppelganger storyline is an old and tired cliché, but one which Doctor Who invariably does well, not only here but also in 'The Massace of St. Bartholomew's Eve', 'The Enemy of the World', and 'The Androids of Tara'. It is a trivial aspect of this story; when George abducts Ann at the start of Episode Two, he picks the right girl; the only purpose of the doppelganger subplot in this respect is to drive the dramatic climax. But it also serves to show Nyssa relaxing too, as she is carried along by Ann's playful suggestion that they dress alike, and she obviously enjoys the joke. 

For such a short story, 'Black Orchid' is therefore worthy of considerable praise. It is also worth noting the way in which the Doctor convinces Sir Robert that he is telling the truth about who he is, by the simple expedient of showing him the TARDIS. This is something he would perhaps normally not do, but there is a suggestion of gentlemanliness about Robert that makes it seem like the logical thing for the Doctor to do. 'Black Orchid' is also very well made, benefiting like 'The Visitation' from superb location filming and excellent period sets. The acting too is first rate, especially Barbara Murray as Lady Cranleigh, Moray Watson as Sir Robert, and of course Michael Cochrane, a man who plays English aristocrats without peer, as Charles. 'Black Orchid' is indeed inconsequential, but still remains a charming diversion from the norm for the series. And in the overall context of Season Nineteen it gives us a chance to see this TARDIS crew at its best before it is irrevocably changed…

Terror of the Vervoids is a very good story with only one central flaw. Good stuff first - I love the claustrophobic, unknown killer on board the space liner theme, I love a nice decent murder mystery and Pip and Jane Bakers' scripts are always excellant, even if they have me reaching for the dictionary with every other word. Elephant's child? Just So Stories?

I even like the nice, friendly rapport between the Doctor and Mel - it makes a nice change from all the arguing and bickering that has gone on in the Tardis since around 1981, by my reckoning. And the Vervoids more than live up to my idea of a cool looking monster - rubbery looking lethal plants with that disconcerting bit of pink brain looking stuff on their heads. Ruthless creatures, but only fighting to survive.

So what don't I like? A major spoiler follows, beware. Here goes. Doland was the assassin? No way! When Edwards was electrocuted, the sparks and stuff caused the Vervoids to pupate from their husks, which was the last thing any of the agromonists would have wanted. Therefore, I reasoned, neither Doland, Bruchner or Professor Lasky could be the killer. Watertight logic you would think? But no. Also, the motive for the murders struck me as being a bit spurious and tacked on. Still, this is only a minor destraction from a suspense laden plot.

'Time-Flight' is bloody terrible. 

All right then, I'll elaborate, although it's hard to know where to start. The plot is a mess, the involvement of Concorde seemingly a contrivance to allow the production team to show off the fact that they've, well, got access to Concorde. With this initial plot albatross, which frankly is an absolute gratuity, Peter Grimwade delivers a story that might cause you to believe that he's never seen Doctor Who before. Given that he's actually directed two stories already in Season Nineteen however, it rather raises the question of what the hell he thought he was doing by writing a script that requires not one but two Concordes to crash land on prehistoric Earth. Not judging Doctor Who by its budgetary limitations is one thing, but when a writer who should know better strains the budget past breaking point, the gloves are off. 'Time-Flight' looks and feels cheap and nasty. The location filming around Heathrow airport looks fine, but given how bad the story is it serves only to bring back fond memories of 'The Faceless Ones'. The horrible sets used to depict prehistoric Earth on the other hand are by far the worst of the season, even given how cheap the jungle sets used in 'Kinda' look. Frankly, having accepted the dodgy script, the production team would have been far better off using their location time to film in a quarry… By Episode Four, things get even worse, with crap model work that seemingly includes Corgi models of Concorde. 

The Xeraphin subplot is potentially interesting, but their psychic abilities means that Grimwade resorts to a deluge of tedious technobabble, and makes further demands above and beyond what the production team can achieve. The Plasmatons, aggregations of protoplasm created using the psychokinetic power of the Xeraphin, are alternately realized as giant grey turds or soap bubbles; the cringe worthy appearance of the Xeraphin themselves is even worse, as two men stand in a box dressed in silver body stockings with lumps of polystyrene stuck to their faces. This is almost forgivable, since the simplistic and ultimately facile division of the Xeraphin into Good and Evil, and the painful plot exposition that they spout usually distracts me. Speaking of which, the script is uniformly ghastly, resulting in horribly stilted dialogue throughout; nearly every line is exposition (or to be more precise, laboured pseudo-science), which means that the characterisation is abominable as a result. Especially bad examples include Scobie and Bilton discovering Angela Clifford and another colleague, during which painful dialogue ensues - do any of these characters sound like real people to anybody? 

Speaking of characters, there are only two of any real note aside from the regulars and the Master. Captain Stapley is quite likeable, and Richard Easton makes a real effort with his crap dialogue (the same is actually true of Michael Cashman's Bilton, although he does little except stand around so that Stapley can explain bits of the plot to him). Equally well acted but far less likeable is Nigel Stock's Professor Hayter. Hayter essentially occupies the same role as Tyler way back in 'The Three Doctors', but whilst I've made no secret of the fact that I consider 'The Three Doctors' to be about as entertaining as being diagnosed with syphilis, at least Tyler was done right. Both characters are present to offer skepticism, something that companions tend not to be well suited for after the various extraordinary sights that they've witnessed. Tyler worked well in this regard because he was good natured and likeable; Hayter is merely an arse who spends a great deal of time moaning and wanting to abandon his fellow passengers in order to save his own skin. Frankly, I'd have suggested that if he really wanted to run away, he should bugger off and see how he likes prehistory. Presumably, this unpleasant characterisation is intentional in order to make his sacrifice (and posthumous rescue of the TARDIS) seem more noble, but in a story as turgid as 'Time-Flight', unsympathetic characters merely serve to rub salt into the wound. 

Then there is the Master. Given that his entire scheme revolves around repairing his TARDIS and escaping from prehistoric Earth, the Master's motivation here is fairly sound. What is rather less sound is his reason for dressing up as some kind of unconvincing Arabic zombie, which Grimwade makes no effort to explain whatsoever. Except of course that we know the real reason: it's to provide a cheap surprise at the cliffhanger to Episode Two. It's absolutely ridiculous, especially given that he stays in character as Kalid even when he's alone, drooling and giggling like some kind of imbecile. I suppose it hammers home the point that Master is, to quote The Completely Useless Encyclopaedia, "nuttier than squirrel shit", but frankly, 'Logopolis' already proved that. By Episode Four, the entire story has degenerated into a bog-standard runaround in which the Master and the Doctor annoy one another, whilst the rest of the cast stand around and play with aeroplane parts. In addition to which, the Doctor's eventual defeat of the Master, which strands him on Xeriphas is not only pure technobabble, it isn't even very convincing - his TARDIS can't materialize because the Doctor's is already at its target coordinates. For one thing this contradicts the fairly recent 'Logopolis', and for another, it blatantly does materialize, since it appears hovering nearby. So how the Doctor knocks it back into time and space is anyone's guess, although at least it brings the whole sorry mess to an end. 

As for the regulars, Davison's breathless enthusiasm is the only reason 'Time-Flight' is worth watching at all, as well as his manic optimism in Episode Four as he struggles to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Nyssa gets to demonstrate vague psychic abilities, which were then promptly forgotten until Lance Parkin wrote 'Primeval', which again illustrates that Grimwade shows no fear of plot contrivances. Tegan gets very little to do, except recite air stewardess spiel for no good reason when the passengers board Concorde towards the end. One of the many, many problems with 'Time-Flight' is that, rather than capitalizing on the loss of Adric to give more time to Nyssa and Tegan, it brings in Stapley and his crew to act as surrogate companions, meaning that the pair instead spend a great deal of time standing around waiting for a plot development. Speaking of Adric, his death is briefly glossed over near the start in a horribly shallow way before everyone decides to stop grieving and try and have some fun. Clearly they miss him as much as I do then…

To summarize all of that, in case I wasn't clear enough, 'Time-Flight' is pants. After a generally very strong debut season for Davison it's terribly disappointing, and to add insult to injury it has a very half-arsed ending in which the Doctor and Nyssa abandon Tegan seemingly by accident. Apparently this was intended to provide a cliffhanger ending to the season before she returns in 'Arc of Infinity', but instead it just makes it looks as though the Doctor is grabbing the opportunity to be rid of her. Nevertheless, she does return, and as a result the potential of the Doctor and Nyssa travelling together without other companions remained untapped. Until nearly twenty years later that is, when Big Finish entered the picture…

'Snakedance' is in many ways highly similar to 'Kinda'. For one thing, it is a sequel to that story, also written by 'Kinda' scribe Christopher Bailey, and featuring the return of the Mara. Like 'Kinda', it suffers from cheap and stagy looking sets and horrible costumes, but is also well directed. And like 'Kinda', it has a superb script, great characterisation, and a superb acting. 

To address those minor negative quibbles first and get them out of the way, I actually much prefer the sets here to those in 'Kinda', with only the rocky exteriors and the cave bothering me. The rocky exteriors look better than they might have done due to the fact that they are recorded on film, but they are still obviously fake sets with a painted backdrop and some sand scattered about; in short, they always look as though they are indoors. The cave looks OK, but suffers from the same problem as those in 'Earthshock', in that it looks very little like a real cave at all. On the other hand, it has been sculpted in the past, so I suppose its shiny walls and unnatural rock shapes could be explained thus. But it still looks a bit silly when the veins in walls light up at the end. Ken Trew's costumes represent my only other criticism of 'Snakedance'; most of them look a bit silly, but are passable, for example those worn by Dugdale and Chela, but Ambril's pink and black costume is hideous and the ludicrous costume that Lon dons in Episode Four has to be seen to be believed. I should perhaps also point out that the curse of the Mara once more means the curse of the rubber snake, whether it be the one wrapped around Tegan's arm, the one that bites Dojjen and the Doctor during the snakedance, or the big Mara prop at the end. However, the snake effects used here have moved up a step since 'Kinda' and bonus points are awarded for the use of real snakes. 

So having got my rather shallow criticisms of 'Snakedance' out of the way, I'll start by praising the regulars. Janet Fielding again proves she can act, as the Mara once more possesses Tegan. She proves especially good when Tegan wakes up terrified from a nightmare, or wanders around in fearful confusion under the influence of the Doctor's dream inhibiting device. She's even better however when Tegan is fully under the Mara's control and she gets to play the villain; her tormenting of the fortuneteller at the end of Episode One, her callous treatment of Dugdale, even her power crazed ranting, all of these aspects are portrayed very well, and this is emphasized by the first two cliffhangers, superbly directed by Fiona Cumming. The real test of Fielding's acting skills is that she manages to seem menacing even with a rubber snake coiled around her arm, which is pretty impressive when all said and done. Actually, the Mara is realized very well throughout 'Snakedance' and is more prominent from the start than it was in 'Kinda', since the Doctor realises what his enemy is very early on. Cumming's use of snake skulls and distorting mirrors are both examples of how she achieves surrealism on a limited budget and shows Tegan alternately fighting or giving in to the Mara in her mind. Cumming's direction is impressive here, but Fielding is crucial to the success of these scenes. 

Sarah Sutton's Nyssa gets very little to do here, basically following the Doctor or Tegan around to allow plot exposition, but Davison is very well used as the Doctor. His frantic rushing around in an attempt to stop the Mara's rebirth is well ahdnled, and it's interesting to see how he looks to the supporting characters, with everyone except Chela assuming that he is a harmless crank. Ambril's reaction to him is very realistic, as he tries to convince everyone that on this occasion a celebration that has been performed once a decade for five centuries will on this occasion have dire consequences. His scenes with Dojjen in Episode Four are particularly good as the Doctor exhibits first fear and then finally understanding as Dojjen teaches him how to defeat the Mara. 

The supporting cast is excellent. Over the past ten years I've often seen clips from 'Snakedance' being used to embarrass both Martin Clunes and Jonathon Morris, but neither have cause for embarrassment (except perhaps for Clunes' costumes). Clunes is superb as the arrogant and bored Lon, whose transformation from obnoxious to manipulative and ruthless demonstrates that Lon is not a particularly nice person to begin with but is far worse under the Mara's control. Incredible, the famously big-eared Clunes, a man famous for portraying loutish behaviour in Men Behaving Badly, manages to appear both imperious and even dashing at times. Morris is also great as the erstwhile Chela, the one person other than Dojjen prepared to listen to the Doctor's warnings about the Mara, and his character is very likeable. Every character is well written, including Lon's snooty but well-meaning mother Tanha (Colette O'Neill), and the money grubbing but also likeable Dugdale (Brian Miller, husband of Elizabeth Sladen) whose fascination with what he thinks of as Tegan's skills at ventriloquism and the financial benefits this might bring him leads him into terror and slavery. Preston Lockwood's Dojjen is played with quiet dignity and although he barely speaks he brings a tremendous air of wisdom to the role. Perhaps most notable is John Carson's Ambril, a great character whose obsession with his work causes him to betray his sacred trust and hand over the great crystal to Lon. Ambril's motivation is always understandable, his greed for knowledge and artifacts nicely contrasting with Dugdale's greed for money and equally demonstrating how the Mara is capable of praying on people's weaknesses. Carson superbly portrays Ambril's barely suppressed excitement at the artifacts Lon shows him, as he handles them with trembling hands, and his defeated submission to the Mara's will as Lon smashes them is very well acted. In addition, Ambril's enraged reaction to the Doctor's solving of the riddle of the Six Faces of Delusion is almost worth watching the story for by itself. 

Bailey's plot is deceptively simple, carried along by the characterisation and more subtext picked up on from 'Kinda'. Buddhism apparently plays its part once more, in the origins of the Mara and the means by which the Doctor defeats it. Also as in 'Kinda' there are subtle criticisms of colonialism (or rather imperialism) as Tanha patronizes the natives and laughs at their quaint customs, whilst nevertheless fascinated by them. 'Snakedance' is perhaps less memorable than 'Kinda', affected to an extent by the law of diminishing returns, but it is a worthy sequel and after the disappointing 'Arc of Infinity' it bodes well for the remainder of Season Twenty.

There is a temptation that when an award is subject to a public vote, to proclaim the result a reflection of popular opinion. This is of course not entirely true; as the old saying goes there are lies, damn lies and statistics. What the so-called public vote represents is the opinions of the people who chose to take part, and is therefore subject to the agendas and prejudices of the sample pool. And that's before you even get into the sticky problem of all the "don't knows/don't cares/go aways" that such samples are subject to.

So when the DWAS and DWM used to have seasonal polls to find the most popular story of a season, the poll might have been on a much smaller scale but the same principle applies. Now, for better or worse, Doctor Who fans are remarkably conservative in their tastes, we always (and I mean ALWAYS) err on the side of caution. So back in the heady days of early 1988, what should find itself coming out top?

Dragonfire.

Apparently Dragonfire achieves the rare distinction among its season 24 brethren of being the most like 'traditional' Doctor Who. I'll quote Tim Munro from his review in DWB No. 51, dated January 1988 (which the Howe/Stammers/Walker triumvirate loved too; they used it in the Television Companion): "It was the only story which came anywhere near to recapturing the unique atmosphere of 'real' Doctor Who." Ok, so he says "real" rather than "traditional," but it's still a great quotation. Especially good is the way our man Tim hijacks the expression "real Doctor Who" and uses it to mean whatever he wants it to mean. It would be facetious of me to say "real Doctor Who, as opposed the imaginary kind that you've been watching for the last eleven weeks," but playing on such a nebulous concept as "real," or my preferred "traditional" smacks of sloppy, tabloid journalism. What he really means is "the Doctor Who I used to watch when I was young and the Yeti were ten feet tall and it was SOOOO scary and everybody at school didn't laugh at me for being such a saddo."

Anyway, since when did being "traditional" warrant celebration? Dragonfire is traditional in the sense that it has the "it's the last serial of the season and oh my God we've run out of money what are we going to do?" look of cheapness about it. Overall, season 24 looks a lot more expensive than season 23 did (space station excepted), but of the four serials from this year, Dragonfire suffers the most from poor design. It is something of a cliché to wheel out the old "BBC are great at costume drama" chestnut but if Cartmel learnt anything from this season, it was that the designers of the day liked to keep things real. A decaying tower block has a real world connection, as does the 1950s, but obviously ice caves and spaceships are still a bridge too far for BBC design teams circa 1987.

You would think that if your sets are shoddy that you'd want to hide the damn things as much as possible, ergo, turn the lights off. A little bit of suspense can go a long way, just ask Chris Carter; Mulder and Scully spent most of season two of The X-Files pottering about in the dark; you begin to wonder if the pair of them are nocturnal. As a consequence every single ice cave scene in Dragonfire has no sense of space whatsoever. People wander around what is supposed to be underground, cramped, unlit, naturally formed, poorly ventilated and freezing cold ice caves as if they've walked into the post office. Sylv is the only member of the cast to remember this, but as he is the ONLY one his slipping comes across as a piece of misjudged slapstick.

So much of Dragonfire comes across as misjudged. The newfound confidence that was on show in Delta has been retarded and the series is back on the uneven ground it occupied during Paradise Towers. Nowhere is this more apparent than THAT cliffhanger. I can't decide whether Chris Clough betrays a lack of faith in the material or simply cannot give a toss. If the latter is true then the man should never have been allowed to work on the show again, but - having read the revealing interview with Eric Saward in DWM recently - on set in 1987 there were probably a hundred good reasons for it at the time. It's just a shame that none are readily apparent.

A slew of good ideas are undermined by this slapdash approach, the Alien-influenced biomechanoid dragon just one. I always appreciate Doctor Who's efforts to punch above its weight and so tend to be more forgiving when high concept ideas fall a little flat. Yes, the dragon is a man in a rubber suit, but Graeme Harper had just such an unwieldy creature in Androzani and got away with it. Just.

It may seem like I've belatedly joined the queue of season 24 bashers after giving the three preceding serials a relatively easy ride but that's not the case. Taken in a wider perspective the last serial of season 24 is much better than the first and although I personally prefer Delta, Dragonfire still feels like part of an uphill trend. Plus points are Sylvester's increasing melancholy, particularly in Mel's leaving scene - Mel's leaving of course being a big plus in its own right, if I feel so inclined to return to my previous facetiousness - is a helpful reminder that yes, this is the same character who will declare war on the evils of the universe for the next two seasons.

Ace, despite some clunky dialogue, proves to be a good addition to the programme. She is conceivably the first pro-active companion since the second Romana and her ability to carry her own sub-plots is a blessing that will only become apparent in the future. Paired with Mel for a lot of the action gives you the chance to directly compare the two; of Mel, Ray and Ace I still think the production team made the right decision.

Tony Selby remains tremendously watchable. He never hits the heights of the Holmes inspired wit that he's given in part thirteen of Trial, but he's playing the part with just the right amount of tongue-in-cheek bravado that the furry dice in the cockpit of the Nesferatu seem perfectly in character. I can also justify his inclusion in the narrative in the wider scope of the programme at the time. With time becoming a premium in the three parters, it becomes essential to get through the establishing scenes with expediency. One of the ways of doing this was to have the characters already know eachother and the vast majority of the three parters follow this pattern. Witness it is Ace's friends who are abducted in Survival, Lady Peinforte has met the Doctor before; more so in the three parters than the fours, the history of the two leads is a driving force behind the narrative as much as the plots of the respective antagonists.

It's easy to say that this is very much a transitional story between the froth of Delta and the introspection of Remembrance but that is lazy and quite frankly bollocks. Dragonfire is the last time we see the Doctor crashing round the universe, finding injustice and then fighting the good fight. From here on, the Doctor has a plan. He goes on the offensive. Doctor Who is never quite the same again.