‘Ghost Light’ is an especially controversial, dismissed by some fans as convoluted at best, nonsensical at worst. Personally, I feel that not only does ‘Ghost Light’ make sense, but after the dire ‘Battlefield’ the acting, direction, set design and incidental score come together to considerably lift the quality of Season Twenty-Six and the result is a magnificent piece of television and a very fine story.

‘Ghost Light’ is basically about evolution, but it isn’t as straightforward as that. Writer Marc Platt crafts a script that is concerned not with the fact of evolution but about Victorian attitudes towards it and misconceptions about it. Josiah Samuel Smith typifies this; part of Light’s crew, or as the Doctor more accurately puts it, cargo, Josiah has escaped whilst his master sleeps and has gained delusions of grandeur as he tries to evolve into the dominant life form. Which in this case isn’t a human, but a Victorian gentleman and, he hopes, ruler of the British Empire. The problem is, Josiah gets it wrong; his plan to assassinate Queen Victoria is ludicrous, because he simply wouldn’t become King in her place, he’d be executed instead. The point of which is that Josiah doesn’t realize this, because he sees society as an evolutionary ladder; his misconceptions are driven by trying to apply the idea of ecological niches to Victorian London, which is logical from his perspective but essentially flawed in practice. And he’s obsessed with evolution; he spends the first two episodes trying to evolve into a Victorian gentleman but failing to realize that wearing a suit, owning property and throwing dinner parties is not enough. He gets everything wrong; he has his guests murdered, he employs a Neanderthal as a butler, and he preserves Inspector Mackenzie like an insect specimen in a draw. He’s also terrified of Control evolving into a “ladylike”, seemingly because he thinks that she will thus be competing for the same ecological niche that he currently occupies and that this threatens his position. In a story with uniformly excellent acting, Ian Hogg is outstanding as Josiah, a vicious and ruthless being who is nevertheless one of the most intentionally incompetent villains in the series history. 

Of course when the Doctor awakens Light at the end of Episode Two, the threat poses by Josiah pales into insignificance, as a being with far greater concerns about evolution is unleashed. Light is a fascinating creation, an obsessive cataloguer of life forms whose need to complete his lists is threatened by the unceasing change and evolution of life on Earth (amusingly, he puts me mind of a psychotic Doctor Who fan, obsessed with completing his or her collection and bleating about the amount of new merchandise constantly being released). My initial reaction to the appearance of John Hallam’s Light is usually one of unease; the definition of the word “camp” seems to vary depending on who you ask, but Hallam’s performance is at first the epitome of camp, which does rather threaten to spoil the gothic mood of ‘Ghost Light’; as Episode Three progresses towards its conclusion however, Hallam’s fey performance is increasingly juxtaposed with the character’s increasing insanity and the result is unnerving, as Light goes from being an “angel” to a monster that dismembers maids, reduces Mackenzie to primordial soup, and threatens to destroy all life on Earth to stop further change. The means of his defeat is magnificent, as the Doctor talks Light into self-destruction by pointing out that he, too, is constantly changing; the demented being is utterly frustrated by this and eventually stops himself from changing in much the same way that he intended to end evolution on Earth once and for all. 

The great strength of ‘Ghost Light’ is Platt’s script, full of wit and with, as has been noted by fans of the story, barely a single line that doesn’t in some way either advance the plot or significantly contribute to characterisation. Java is used as a metaphor for death, but it also ties in nicely with the evolutionary theme due to the large number of fossils that have been found there over the years and even Gwendoline’s rendition of “That’s the Way To the Zoo” is significant in that it prefigures the fate of Reverend Matthews, cruelly transformed into a parody of an ape. Matthews is a highly significant character in terms of the evolutionary theme; intentionally or not, the model of evolution used by Platt here bears only passing resemblance to the scientific theory (his suggestion that the insects in the house will one day evolve into more advanced beings is a case in point), but it bears a great deal of resemblance to the common misconceptions about evolution often displayed by members of the public. Matthews represents this ignorance, not because he is religious, but because he is angrily refuting Josiah’s (and Darwin’s) claims that man was descended from a primitive ape ancestor without displaying any real understanding of the theory. Thus, although Matthews does not drive the main plot, he does play a role in the development of the underlying themes of the script. 

The script is full of such details, some more subtle than others, with lines such as “There go the rungs on his evolutionary ladder” in Episode Three when Josiah unwillingly switches places with Control. There is also a great deal of wit on display here, such as when Josiah describes the primordial soup that was once Mackenzie as “the cream of Scotland Yard”. Word play is evident throughout, especially in Redvers’ dialogue; he refers to Queen Victoria as “the crowned Saxe Coburg” for example and generally acts as though he believes that he is still exploring the darkest jungles of Africa, which on one level is clearly intended to convey the fact that he is unbalanced, but also imparts a great deal of information about what is going on, especially when he talks of light burning bright in the heart of the interior, which of course reveals that he has at some point found his way down to the “lower observatory” and seen the hibernating Light, which is what drove him insane in the first place. 

The characterisation is superb, and is complemented by some fine acting; Michael Cochrane is perfectly cast as Redvers Fenn-Cooper, conveying all the eccentricity of a stereotypical British explorer with confidence. He isn’t the only stereotype on display here; Mackenzie is clearly a pastiche of the archetypal traditional British police officer as seen in fiction, a bumbling plod utterly out of his depth who spends much of his time eating or sleeping (Platt of course deliberately exaggerates both of these clichйs, with Mackenize having been in a period of enforced hibernation for two years and ravenous as a result; he eats several large meals after the Doctor awakens him!) and plays second fiddle to the eccentric amateur sleuth, i.e. the Doctor. Veteran actor Frank Windsor is superb in the role, and he is in good company; Sylvia Sims is suitably terrifying as the typical stern Victorian housekeeper, also exaggerated by the script into the head of a gaggle of gun-toting maids. Rather less typical at first glance is Nimrod, a Neanderthal employed as a butler, but when we consider that Redvers is a stereotypical explorer whose response to meeting tribal cultures is to offer brightly coloured beads, he too stands revealed as an amusing pastiche of another clichй, as he spouts Earthly wisdom and respects the Doctor’s shaman-like traits as though he is some kind of witch-doctor. Carl Forgione provides an understated and quite performance which is perfectly in keeping with the “noble savage” character type that he is playing. Thus we are presented not only with Victorian attitudes to evolution, but also with characters that are a clear nod to Victorian fiction, or at least common perception of what Victorian fiction is like. 

Crucially, in addition to creating all of these memorable supporting characters, Platt also provides a script that serves both Doctor and Ace beautifully. The Doctor’s manipulative streak becomes readily apparent here, as he brings Ace back to a house that terrified her as a child, largely to satisfy his own curiosity. Ace works better here than in any of pervious stories, and this largely down to the script, which reveals some of the darker secrets of her past but also shows that she feels guilty about them, hints at the reasons for her rather troubled past (the attack on her friend Manisha) and really starts to suggest that she is finding some kind of redemption by travelling with the Doctor whether she is seeking it or not. Happily, Sophie Aldred puts in her best performance as Ace here, and whilst I’ll never find her convincing, she is far more natural in the role than on most prior occasions. Sylvester McCoy meanwhile positively shines here; he gives his most austere and mysterious performance so far, and is very well served by Platt’s script. He is melancholy when the Doctor tells Ace, “I can’t stand burnt toast. I loathe bus stations. Terrible places, full of lost luggage and lost souls… And then there’s unrequited love. And tyranny. And cruelty.” And he even conveys anger convincingly when he tells Light to leave Control alone in Episode Three. The Doctor gets some fine scenes here; he demolishes Josiah’s plans with ease at the dinner table in Episode Three, as he breaks his hold over Mrs. Pritchard, and convinces Redvers to turn on his benefactor and throw his invitation to Buckingham Palace into the fire. Finally, there is his defeat of Light; as though to compensate for the rather iconic but ultimately nonsensical (on screen, at least) scene in ‘Remembrance of the Daleks’ wherein he talks the Dalek Supreme to death, here his similar defeat of Light is far more smoothly achieved. He keeps talking to the increasingly frustrated Light, pointing out that he too is constantly changing; as he does so, Light’s aura fades as he becomes more and more distraught (which is presumably why he doesn’t obliterate the Doctor with a thought) and almost piteously cries, “You are endlessly agitating, unceasingly mischievous, will you never stop?” The Doctor’s reply is, of course, “I suppose I could, it would make a change”.

The script and the acting are instrumental to the success of ‘Ghost Light’, but everything else comes together here too; Alan Wareing’s direction is superb, exploiting the gothic feel of the detailed period sets beautifully, and is greatly helped by the flawless costumes and sets, not to mention Mark Ayers’ impressive incidental score which enhances the sinister atmosphere with great accomplishment. ‘Ghost Light’ is Doctor Who as I like it; it brims with outlandish ideas, it looks gorgeous, and the acting is great. It clearly isn’t to everyone’s tastes, but for me it is an example of Andrew Cartmel’s Doctor Who at its best.

And so, after over two years of watching every Doctor Who story in order from ‘100,000BC’ onwards, I finally reach ‘Survival’. Despite it’s status as the very last broadcast story of the original series, ‘Survival’ if often overlooked in favour of Season Twenty-Six stable-mates ‘Ghost Light’ and ‘The Curse of Fenric’; nevertheless, it is a well-written and largely well directed story that forms a fitting end to a mammoth twenty-six year run.

The plot of ‘Survival’ is adequately described by the story’s title; it’s about survival on the planet of the Cheetah People as the humans transported there struggle initially to stay alive and later to remain human, whilst the Master also strives to survive without giving in to his bestial side. It’s also about survival in the urban wilderness of Perivale, a depressing concrete suburb where Ace’s friends and contemporaries have little to do except learn to fight in Sergeant Patterson’s testosterone crazed self-defense classes. There is also an element of the repulsive concept of social Darwinism, illustrated by the joke about a man trying to outrun his friend when they are chased by a lion shared by Harvey and Len; the Master epitomizes this, as he uses and discards Midge to facilitate his own escape, and later literally makes use of the concept to encourage the self-defense group to kill Patterson. Ironically of course, Patterson is himself a proponent of social Darwinism, and it comes back to haunt him with terminal consequences. And ‘Survival’ is perhaps also about other aspects of human nature; Ace and Midge both start to transform into Cheetah People, but for different reasons. Ace’s is attracted to the savage beauty of the creatures and begins to change after she saves Karra, whereas Midge gives in to his darker, animalistic side, needlessly killing a Cheetah Person in fear and anger. The Doctor’s cry of “If we fight like animals, we die like animals” is an attempt to appeal to the Master’s reason and to the better qualities of humanity, as he seeks an alternative to combat. Of course, neither life nor the plot of ‘Survival’ is ever that simple; despite the Doctor’s best efforts, sometimes there is no alternative, and it is Ace’s transformation that allows her friends and her to return home. When she refuses to fight in Episode Three, knowing that doing so will change her forever, she faces death until Karra intervenes. 

In addition to this engaging and fairly thought-proving plot, ‘Survival’ also benefits from some great scripting, which includes some rather witty lines and scenes, including “That’s what they said, either you were dead or gone to Birmingham” and the Doctor being caught in Ace’s noose trap, prompting the deadpan response “How many times have I told you about playing with fire?” as she runs screaming towards him with a burning branch in her hand. Impressively, this is the only story from this era that contains absolutely no lines that make me cringe; Ace usually gets saddled with at least one, but writer Rona Munro avoids this recurring problem here. The story is well structured from the opening scenes, as something hunts people on the streets of Perivale and people vanish, and although we have often seen the Doctor in a contemporary setting, this is the first time he has ever been placed into the tedious banality of such a suburban setting, which is both effective and rather comical. A man who has toppled empires, overthrown tyrants and defeated monsters is suddenly inconvenienced by an irritated homeowner who glowers at him as he hides in her garden trying to trap cats. Munro also scores well with both the Cheetah People and their planet; the Cheetah People are animals, but they are lethal predators, not domestic cats. Ace tries to unhorse one of them and the Doctor juggles in an attempt to distract them from Patterson, but both fail, having underestimated the creatures. Later, Ace befriends Karra after a fashion, but the Cheetah Person retains her lethal edge, making it clear that she would kill Ace if there were no other food available. Finally, in a story in which humanity’s relationship to nature is important, the planet of the Cheetah People is not just another alien planet, but rather a living force of nature inextricably linked to its inhabitants.

‘Survival’ benefits from some great acting. It is often said that Anthony Ainley gives his best performance as the Master here, and it is easy to see why; bereft of ham, he reigns in his usual over-the-top tendencies and gives a subtle, restrained and weary performance appropriate to the fact that here, the Master isn’t engaged in yet another bid for power, but is simply trying to survive. Stripped of the usual bickering, his relationship with the Doctor is far darker than usual; he seeks the Doctor’s help early on, but later, as he comes to believe that he will never be free of the Cheetah planet, he becomes more obsessed with killing his old foe than he does with surviving. Aldred is also rather good here, proving that she plays the character much better when Ace is allowed to be more adult, which is probably understandable as she was always hopelessly miscast as a sulky teenager. She sounds genuinely terrified when Ace screams for help in Episode Three, for example. McCoy is not quite on his best form however; his anguished cries of “If we fight like animals, we die like animals” don’t quite ring true, and he becomes very stilted on occasion, especially during the “Don’t run!” scene in Episode Two. For the most part though, he’s very good; he conveys the Doctor’s contempt for the Master just as well as his predecessors, and he gets small moments of brilliance, such as when he dismisses Patterson with the simple “Oh do shut up”, a quietly delivered line which nevertheless sounds surprisingly forceful. 

The guest cast also performs well; none of them especially stand out, but this is largely because none of them are noticeably bad. Julian Holloway’s performance as opinionated buffoon Sergeant Patterson, a man who obviously thinks that he can cope with anything but copes less well than Ace’s “dropout” friends, is alarmingly convincing, as is William Barton’s as Midge, a seemingly once cocky young man who is lead astray first by his own nature and then by the Master. Sakuntala Ramanee’s Shreela and David John’s Derek also provide reliable support, both representing likeable innocents caught up in a battle for survival. Then of course there’s Lisa Bowerman who is fine as Karra, giving a largely vocal performance due to the limitations of her mask, which hides any facial expressions. She has of course spent a good part of the last few years endearing Doctor Who fans by giving a more prominent vocal performance as one of my favourite companions, but more on that in later reviews. I should also mention Hale and Pace, arguably the least funny comedy double act since records began, who’s long and relatively successful career is both baffling and distressing. Nevertheless, credit where credit is due; they are perfectly cast as a pair of utterly banal shopkeepers who share an unfunny joke. 

In production terms, ‘Survival’ is variable. Dominic Glynn’s incidental score is superb, and always makes me wish guitars had seen wider use in the scores written for the series. Alan Wareing also does a great job of directing ‘Survival’, proving that he can handle location work just as well as he did studio sets in ‘Ghost Light’. The logical step of shooting the scenes set in Perivale actually in Perivale works very well, and although the Planet of the Cheetah people is obviously a quarry, gravel pit or similar locale, this retrospectively seems highly appropriate for the series’ final story. Wareing also handles his actors well; the “Don’t run!” scene in Episode Two that I mentioned above treads precariously close to embarrassing, but he pulls it off thanks to fast cuts and shots from above the actors’ heads, which keeps a certain momentum going. Despite all this praise however, ‘Survival’ does suffer in places; the oft criticized motorcycle crash is truly appalling, as the subsequent shot of the Doctor face down in a rubbish tip (surprisingly, McCoy refrains from his occasional tendency to clown around, and actually claws back some dignity here by sounding genuinely angry as he dusts himself off and fumes about the Master). The biggest problem however, is the cats. I’m veering into hypocrisy here, given my prior defense of ‘The Web Planet’ on the grounds that special effects aren’t important, but the animatronic kitlings look awful and the Cheetah People infamously look like Puss in Boots. I don’t really mind this, but I can’t help thinking the animatronic cats aren’t really necessary (all they do is snarl as their eyes glow red), and there must surely have been a better way to realize the Cheetah People than by using inexpressive masks and fake fur leggings. Fake teeth, contact lenses, half-masks and leather garments might have been more effective and within budget; to the production team’s credit however, the decision to mount them on horseback was inspired, as they look far more impressive when they are on the horses than they do off of them. It doesn’t really matter though; the script works and for the most part ‘Survival’ papers over its less impressive aspects with ease. 

And that’s it; suddenly, and to my horror at the time, my favourite television series came to an abrupt end. A slightly cheesy voice-over tacked onto the final scene of ‘Survival’ suggests that, whilst the series might be ending, the Doctor’s adventures would continue, somewhere, somehow, but the television series died. The corpse however, wouldn’t stop twitching. Some two years later, Virgin Books began publishing a new range of full-length original Doctor Who novels entitled the New Adventures. After a fairly pedestrian start, Paul Cornell’s ‘Timewyrm: Revelation’ suddenly opened my eyes to a new world of stories and what followed quickly became (and has remained) one of my favourite eras of Doctor Who and one of the most controversial. Soon, the Missing Adventures joined the New Adventures; with Virgin publishing two novels a month and Doctor Who Magazine (and of course it’s popular comic strip) keeping the flame alive, my appetite for the Time Lord’s adventures continued to be satisfied. Despite this, my desire for a new television series remained undiminished but it wouldn’t be until nineteen ninety-six that Doctor Who next returned to our screens…

In the Twin Dilemma, Colin Baker has the following line: “Well, if he really does believe such unimaginable rubbish he must be faced by some unimaginable disaster which has unhinged his mind.” The repetition makes it sound like a line from Plan 9 from Outer Space, but speaking of “unimaginable” disasters, Doctor Who must have been utterly confident at this point to begin a new era with a ranting, bickering, cowering Doctor dressed in that costume. Add to that a slow and barely engaging story, poor production values and music that follows character movements and manages to be as irritating as Colin Baker. 

All I can think is that out of overconfidence (or not particularly caring) the producers allowed one of the worst stories ever at a critical time. The show would never be so confident again. Say what you like about the show being put on hiatus, after that every story at least tried to do something, and we never got anything as bad as this again. 

For a Doctor to have a bad exit is unfortunate, but for an actor in the main role to have such a brutal first outing is disastrous. In this case, as all fans know, they followed a great exit with a horrible beginning: the Davison Doctor left showing great courage in facing his own death, and admirable loyalty in staying dedicated to Peri throughout the previous story. And Caves of Androzani is brilliant for that – by the end, the Doctor is shrugging off literally everything to stay focused like a spotlight on saving his friend. It may have made sense at the time to follow it up with a less dramatic story to provide a break, but the contrast couldn’t be stronger given that the new Doctor cowers in the face of, well, nothing more than slow moving slugs. 

Highlights of episode three include space lieutenant whats-his-name (who points his gun at the Doctor’s face every other sentence) getting his feet stuck in slime that hardens like concrete and cutting himself loose while everyone argues, and an ending where the Doctor yells “Peri!” despite that fact that she’s nowhere around, simply because it helps provide an episode climax. In fact, many scenes could be cut, and not just scenes featuring minor characters. In episode one, every scene at the intergalactic police headquarters (or whatever it’s called) is ultimately pointless. And given that the evolution of the Doctor’s character here is a misfire (to bring back some of the testiness and confidence of the first Doctor was a great idea, and well timed, but to make the Doctor the most irritating character in the story goes a little too far), some of that overwhelming performance by Colin Baker could easily be trimmed as well. 

One of the dialogue highlight from episode four: 

Mestor: “You really are mad, ha. You dare to threaten me in my own throne room?” 

Doctor: “Did I threaten him? Did you hear me threaten him?” 

Mestor: “Be silent!” 

Doctor: “Watch it, Mestor!” 

As a villain, the slug Mestor is incapable of a facial expression, thanks to the costume, though he does manage to wave his hands at times. The Doctor says it himself: “I don’t rate you very highly at all.” To top it all off, it’s more the Doctor’s old mentor that finally saves the day. 

So here’s what I propose: a special edition of the Twin Dilemma, where it’s been edited down to perhaps three episodes, and some of the effects improved. This is a particular set of episodes that’s doomed to poison Colin Baker’s era as long as any station shows the episodes in order, so since the BBC owns the program they can minimize the damage. A shorter edition of this would be much more tolerable.

There are so many reasons why I love the Two Doctors I could chat about it ad nauseum. One of the best things about it is its utter uniqueness in Doctor Who history. There is quite literally no story like this one (whereas there are quite a few Caves of Androzani's and Talons of Weng Chiang's), a story which doesn't play by the rules of normal Doctor Who, that contains very little action and adventures but instead explores the plot ideas and characters so vividly. That abandons any sense of coherence for a slice of non stop indulgent fun. That uses dialogue so accurately that the script itself is worth gold. The Two Doctors doesn't want to be a safe runaround (but alas in places it touches upon this fabulous Doctor Who mini-genre), it wants to throw unpleasant images and concepts at you and expects you to accept them and move on.

One of the reasons I feel people moan about this story (and yet admittedly it had received critical acclaim in recent years) is the awkwardness behind some of the more 'adult' scenes on display. Shockeye's blatant cravings to eat a human is a uncomfortable reminder of our own obsessions and taking the metaphor one step further we see him lust after such a "fine, fleshy beast" laying her out on the kitchen table to have his wicked way. It becomes even more disturbing when we realise he craves a "jack" even more (and Jaime is then laid out on that exact same table whilst Shockeye tortures him horribly. This from the same man who bit into a live rat earlier in the show and held it up with a huge bite mark in it...very disturbing. The character of Shockeye is little more than a caricature but he is written (and played) with such utter conviction that the story takes on darker, less Doctor Who-ey shades than we are used to. 

Then there is the lack of plot. What? Lack of? I think not. It's actually a lovely plot and enjoyably complex. The only problem as far as I can see is the complete diverge from the plot as Doc 2 and Shockeye go into to town for some food. People bemoan that this story is too long but I must digress, yes it feels padded in places but if we started chopping unnecessary scenes we would be deprived of so many priceless scenes. I couldn't cut anything from this story justifiably. Doc 2 baiting Stike is totally pointless in the scheme of things but then we would miss Troughton's astonishing ability to switch from comedy to drama and back to comedy again in the blink of an eye. A few TARDIS scenes could be snipped but then we wouldn't be able to laugh as Colin abuses the machine in exactly the same way Troughton did earlier. And as for taking away the restaurant scenes....never! Some gorgeously placed black comedy in amongst the horror elsewhere and the death of Oscar, a scene I now celebrate because of its ability to get saddo fan boys so worked up. Even the obvious blood pouch in his shirt is just perfect. 

Bryant and Baker seem so much more comfortable with Homes' knowing hand to guide them. Those early TARDIS scenes are priceless with some the most rewarding dialogue they were ever given. I just love the Chris Columbus gag but the whole sequence about pin galaxies is also a treat. It's quite incredible how much Baker compares favourably to Troughton actually...all the tense scenes on the station are enhanced by his haunted reactions to everything. And all that talk about how brutal he is is just nonsense...look how he rushes to rescue Peri at the end of episode one or the scene that opens with him caressing her face to see if she's okay. Doctor nasty isn't making house calls today. 

Another thing this story manages that almost no other in the last four years has is its ability to have FUN. Its almost like a Doctor Who summer holiday with the amounts of running around in glorious Spain. With lots and lots of well scripted and acted comedy scenes and the gorgeous sun spilled landscape the fun just keeps coming. The last episode is a particular delight as things move back to the hacienda with lots of bluffs and double bluffs as characters are bumped off horribly (but memorably). The whole story is a bit of an indulgence in the end, not absolutely needed in the grand scale of Doctor Who but without it that infectious, enjoyable side to the show would be a sorrier place. The show is stuffed full of those little character bits, scenes like the celebrated one in Remembrance that 80's Who severely sacrificed in favour of action set pieces. Oscar's lovely speech about moths, the Doctor's reaction to the end of the universe, Jaime's attempt to get a kiss from anyone...lovely, lovely moments.

And lets not forget all the comedy that actually works. How funny is the scene where the Doctor keeps babbling and Peri is trying to listen to the horrible moanings that are echoing through the service duct. Scary but very funny. And only Robert Holmes could drive so much comedy from his own race, the Sontarans, they take themselves so bloody seriously (and nobody else does!!!) it makes Stike's eventual, horribly embarassing quadruple barreled death (stabbed, covered with acid, electrified by the time machine and blown up in his ship!) all the more wonderful. Shockeye's discovery of his bloody leg is the last straw, so funny it hurts. But the script is littered with well placed witty lines..."Centuries!!...if gonna take that long i'll see if Jaime's okay" is Peri's reaction to the end of the universe, Doc 2 and Shockeye discuss the delights of "Shepherd's Pie"...an apparently cannibal dish!, even better is how Troughton grates on about "monkeys" and later we see Peri chomping on a banana!!! Its long past time Doctor Who let its hair down after three years of serious (lets say dull) SF. 

This is probably the most entertaining story of Doctor Who's last ten years. Watching today we can critisize the amount of violence, the 45 minute episodes, the gratuitous location work but why bother. A story filled with so many rewarding moments, so much humour and horror, that deliberately flouts accepted Doctor Who law (continuity, realistic violence, genuine laughs!) to tell a great story should be celebrated. So I shall.

And I can't go without mentioning two of my favourite Who sequences...Cheseneye reverting back into an Androgum and lapping the Doctor's blood off the floor and the Doctor being chased through the hills of Seville by a knife weilding mainiac who uses the otherwise arbitary moth storyline to superb effect as he cyanides his victim to death. Doctor Who was never this totally brave again and thank god...the fans would probably have a heart attack.

Time and the Rani is utter crap, I would never deny that. The script is ludicrous, full of scientific mumbo-jumbo that would have Eienstein (who makes a brief appearance) baffled. It is poorly structured and has some seriously poor cliffhangers and the 'wow' moments are kept to an absolute minimum. The acting is as far from Oscar worthy as you could possibly get and the lines some of these well known actors are force fed make you want to die of embarrassment.

And yet...

I find this story immensely pleasurable from the word go. Every time I re-watch I find myself enjoying its barmy atmosphere. Its almost as if everybody knew they were onto a stinker so decided to make it as bad as possible in every way. On these terms the story is a forgotten classic, a comedy that rivals anything from the Williams era for laughs (and is even better than The Chase for post pub watching!!!).

Funny? Oh yes it is! Scarily enough the Rani's Bonnie impressions are actually very good (and wet your pants hysterical!)...her little asides ("Pretentious is the word") never fail to get me going. Kate O'Mara gives a performance so camp that it knocks Benik, the Security Chief and Lady Adastra out of the pool! Its a daft script so it deserves a daft performance and O'Mara's treatment of the character doesn't diminish my love the character one jot. Just watch her delayed reactions as the Doctor ties her up at the end of episode ("Arraaagh!") or her grandiose villany dialogue ("I have the Loyhargil! Nothing can stop me now!"). Get stuffed Zaroff..the Rani is now the best OTT baddie!

D'you what the funniest thing about this story is that Pip'n'Jane (bless them) actually thought this effort was a serious and dramatic way to start the season. Its more like The Nutty Professor on speed with a dose of LSD for good measure! 

Poor Bonnie, all she wants are good scripts so she can show the world what she's made of and she's made to trip over, fall unconscious, scream, get tongued by a Tetrap, scream, get suspended upside down, scream, put in a bubble and bounced around a quarry and of course...scream. The reprise to episode two is brilliantly funny where Mel is supposed to scream for like three minutes without stopping and you can hear that poor Bonnie's voice is going and yet she struggles on gamely. I love Bonnie to pieces and she proved her self admirably in Trial of a Time Lord and the Big Finish plays so im now convinced it was a case of wrong time/wrong place plus crapper than crap scripts. The scenes where Mel is underwitten (such as her desperate pleas to Ikona and her reaction to Faroon's reaction to Sarn's death) are genuinely well acted and poignant.

Lets face it...McCoy is awful in this but he plays the part so loosely (and with such comedy) its impossible not to enjoy. In many ways its good that Colin escaped this story as I cannot imagine how he would have fared here. With no real character to discern here McCoy just plays himself on overdrive and its quite infectious in places...I love the first scene between Mel and the Doctor ("Theory exchanges no mockery!")...full of energy and quite sweet when they realise who they are. Unfortunately he plays up the awful proverbs (although the recent Bang-Bang-a-Boom takes the piss out of that so I guess it was worth it) and the more cringe worthy aspects of the character. Alas who could ever forget "A hologram! As substantial as the Rani's scruples!"...shiver. 

And lets not forget that this story has a fully competent production. Andrew Morgan is the only person who is determined to inject some talent into this story and his direction is excellent in places. He might be lumbered with another quarry but he tries to make things interesting by shooting at high angles and setting the camera's between the rocks for some inventive shots. The special FX for the story are as good as the show ever got and the bubble traps Mel has a habit of falling into look superb. The asteriod, rocket lift off and bulging brain look good too. It really is a case of dire script/excellent production. And lets not forget Keff McCulloch who I feel gives his best music in this story, its a really freaky techno-inspired score sometimes totally at odds with the action but always very memorable. Love the piece where Ikona looks for the glitter weapon and the theme where the Tetraps jump down from the ceiling and emerge...very cool. 

So there we have it, its hearts in the right place but its brain has been stuck on heroine too long, a story that looks fab but you cannot take seriously. At the time it was the worst thing that could have happened. Now, many years on it is a guilty indulgence and hugely enjoyable at that.

Ladies and Gentlemen I give you Doctor Who...the only show in existence that is brilliant when it sucks.

‘Paradise Towers’ is one of those stories that many fans dislike immensely, and like many season twenty-four stories it is widely believed to be a childish and silly run-around. As I stated in my review of another story that this season threw up, ‘Dragonfire’, such criticisms are probably accurate, but then again the production team weren’t aiming for the gothic horror feel of the seventies. They were approaching Doctor Who from a completely different angle, and to a certain extent it was probably designed to be childish and silly. Many fans hated this approach to making Doctor Who. I personally don’t have a problem with this – it is a children’s show after all – as long as there’s an interesting story full of interesting characters lurking underneath all of the fluff. Paradise Towers has that, and so in my eyes redeems itself.

The Doctor and Mel travel to the luxury apartment complex Paradise Towers so that Mel can go for a swim in its pool. Once they land they discover that the towers have fallen into disarray, and that its inhabitants have divided up into factions. There are the Kangs (girl gangs), Caretakers (fascist police) and Rezzies (old ladies). However, something evil is lurking in the basement, and it is up to the Doctor to unite the factions and defeat the evil. 

Writer Stephen Wyatt packed his scripts with some fascinating ideas. Indeed, a story featuring cannibalistic old Ladies, killer cleaning robots, fascist caretakers and street gangs has all the right ingredients for a good Doctor Who story, yet in the process of this production going from script to screen something went wrong. 

Maybe it was the casting of Howard Cook in the role of Pex, who just comes off as rather silly. You never find his character funny or sympathetic as was probably intended. Then there is the ever awful Bonnie Langford as Mel. Here, she strives to give what must be her worst ever performance by continually over emphasising every single line. Sylvester McCoy still isn’t coping to well, but at least he’s better here than in Time and the Rani. Then we come to the killer cleaning robots. Now, I know the show was made on a very small budget, but these things look awful, and in the final part we learn that a single arrow hit from a Kang crossbow can destroy them. I find it hard to believe that a whole tribe of Kangs could be wiped out from things so easy to kill. Then there is the padding. This four part adventure should have been condensed into three parts. The writer uses the ploy of the Doctor escaping and then getting recaptured, and pads his scripts further with Mel wandering down corridor after corridor and then getting stuck in a lift. The incidental music is awful, with the production being suited to a much darker score. But hey, that’s Keff McCulloch for you.

On the flip side of the coin, I thought Richard Briers as the chief caretaker was wonderful. Only when his body is inhabited by the great architect Kroagnon does he become embarrassing and unintentionally hilarious. Actually, I rather enjoyed all of the scenes with the caretakers. The idea of fascist caretakers, complete with German world war two era style uniforms, enforcing pointless rules and regulations, is very entertaining. 

Also worthy of note is the language used by the Kangs. The idea of young people developing their own language has been seen before, of course, most notably in A Clockwork Orange, but it’s an interesting idea and works well here.

Before I tie this review up, I feel I must mention the one plot hole that this story contains. It is, after all, quite a massive one. Why did the inhabitants of the towers separate Kroagnons brain from his body and imprison him in the basement. He himself says ‘no one knows my paradise towers better than me’, surely it would have made more sense to simply kill him? It also beggars’ belief that they left him with all the technology needed to escape. Clearly more thought should have gone into this.

After watching ‘Paradise Towers’ you always get the feeling of a missed opportunity. The story has the potential to say rather more about urban housing and the effect it has on its inhabitants than it actually does, and treated in a more serious manner by director Nicholas Mallet this could have been a great story, rather than just a fair one. Yes, Paradise Towers has its flaws (no pun intended), but I always find it enjoyable and is one of the better stories of McCoy’s early time on the show.