‘Inferno’ is considered one of the more memorable Jon Pertwee stories, in large part for its notable parallel-world gimmick. And yes, it is just a gimmick – the plot device is effective in its shock value, no doubt (yanking the rug out from us three episodes in!), but for all the story’s serious tone, it mainly just gives the UNIT regulars an opportunity to dress up and play the baddies for once. The ‘sideways slide’ actually has very little to do with the episode’s true plot – really, the sudden power cut to the TARDIS console could have been caused by anything, and happened in any story. And not only is the ‘slide’ a gimmick, it’s a red herring as well! It doesn’t explain what the green glop is, or how it turns people into Primords; all it does is show the Doctor what will happen if he doesn’t stop the Inferno drilling, which he was already trying to do anyway. (Ultimately, what’s causing the phenomenon is never really explained, and once the project is finally halted, the Doctor seems to lose whatever interest he might have had in the mystery.)

That said, ‘Inferno’ is still quite watchable, making up for what it lacks in brains with a serious and scary style, and an unusual realism. Like many Pertwee-era stories, this one is long, and yet for the most part it doesn’t feel it. The most notable and successful of the story’s elements has nothing to do with parallel universes – it’s the sound of the Inferno drill itself. Doctor Who is famous for over-extending itself – throughout its history, it’s tried to actually show us things like spacecrafts landing and giant monsters attacking, despite having just a tenth of the budget necessary to pull the effects off well (if that). And who am I kidding, this is certainly part of classic Who’s charm and evergreen appeal. Yet, it is extremely interesting to see the production team exercising the rare piece of aesthetic sleight of hand. And how well it works! The drill’s incessant, god-awful grinding, with the characters having to raise their voices to be heard above it, does more to convince us that there’s a giant machine just off-screen than any tightly shot model ever could. Sure, we don’t get to see the drill – we really don’t need to.

The Primord plotline is played very straight, and the fact that most of the characters are unaware of the mutations until late in the story adds an element of danger and menace. The episode’s horror elements, while subtle, are still quite effective. The Dog-faced Boy costumes are ultimately rather silly-looking, but in the early episodes the Primords (influenced possibly by Night of the Living Dead, but actually looking forward to later vicious-zombie movies) are quite scary and believable, especially given that the world in which they are an aberration feels so real to begin with. And personally, I find something quite sickening about how the mutating humans uncontrollably rub the green slime onto their faces – Olaf Pooley really seems to be relishing his ‘serving,’ and the effect is practically obscene. (Stahlman is a marvelous villain – in a series legendary for bad guys who want to take over the universe, this kind of petty monomaniac is refreshing and totally believable. He doesn’t have delusions of grandeur, exactly – he’s just the boss from hell.)

As for the parallel-continuum aspect, it’s of course fun in its way. Caroline John probably comes off the best – there’s something recognizably Liz Shaw-like inside her, but for the most part she’s frighteningly hard and steely. Nicholas Courtney has perhaps too much fun as the Brigade Leader – there’s a semi-foreign accent that comes and goes, and the shouting and crying are not much more than ordinary Who ham. But there are things to like about his performance as well – he and John play off each other beautifully in the interrogation sequence (“Name?”), and his posture as the Brigade Leader shows that it wasn’t just in the eighties that this actor started to pack on the pounds. (In other words, it reveals how much of Courtney’s trim bearing as the Brigadier is actually physical acting.)

As for the Doctor himself, Pertwee is like-ably crabby throughout; his up-yours responses to Stahlman’s pig-headedness are particularly well played. I’d forgotten just how serious the Third Doctor is – and, for as much as I do enjoy the ‘cosmic wisecracker’ approach taken by Tom Baker and some of the other actors, it’s nice to see a Doctor who can tell the Brigadier that he was at Krakatoa in 1883, and not play it for laughs. It’s kind of a spooky moment when Pertwee says he was there; we believe him, and for a moment we see the Doctor as others must see him – as a figure of bizarre mystery, full of tales which fly in the face of common sense, and yet which have the air of truth nonetheless.

All told, an entertaining story, well worth watching.

People seem to want to like ‘The Claws of Axos,’ and others have shown that there are things *to* like about it. The organic, parasitic spaceship with its satellite ‘crew’ is a good idea, one that I would say is better realized here than in ‘Terror of the Zygons.’ The exchange in which the Axon ‘leader’ hesitates on the word ‘ship’ is particularly nice in communicating the idea that these are not typical sci-fi aliens (i.e., humans with scales, extra eyes, etc.). The Axons look good in all their incarnations, and the way in which they transform is horrifying and quite wonderful.

But ultimately the story remains a minor one at best, and even considered as such, is less than the sum of its good parts. For starters, the plot is needlessly complicated – this is one of those stories that seems straightforward enough, but if you stop for a moment and think, you’ll realize you have no real idea what’s going on. As is the case with many of the Pertwee stories, there really is no need for the Master to be in it at all; the character is included for one reason only - to give the Doctor access to a working TARDIS, so he can create the time loop at the end. And, speaking of which, Axos’s desire to achieve time travel is itself another pure contrivance, designed simply to allow the Doctor to use a TARDIS as a silver bullet to eliminate them. Why else have them try to do anything more than suck the earth dry? (Isn’t that frightening enough?) I suppose Baker/Martin and the production team wanted to come up something a little different than a typical ‘blow everything up’ Who finale, but it all seems a bit awkwardly assembled to me.

And there are blatant stupidities besides. Not only does showing the Axon monsters in the prologue spoil the suspense, it also has the unfortunate side effect of making the Doctor look stupid, since he tells Chinn not to assume that Axos is hostile after we already know that it *is*. And while the Doctor or Jo might be curious (and reckless) enough to climb inside the Axos pod at the first opportunity, I find it hard to believe that such a huge party, including the head of UNIT, important Ministry of Defense officials, and Nuton Power Complex administrators, would just traipse blindly into this completely unknown alien organism. 

As for the actors, Peter Bathurst throws himself into the part of Chinn, but the character is still pretty tedious – such a broadly drawn caricature of an old-fashioned ‘England for the English’ conservative that even lefties will find it hard to enjoy. (Although Chinn should quickly be pointed out to critics of the new series who claim that liberal sympathies first came to Doctor Who with Russell T. Davies.) The other actors are better – in particular, it might have been nice to see Filer reappear in some other UNIT stories – but they sort of disappear in the messiness

Let’s see, what have I forgotten? Well, there’s Pigbin Josh, of course – alas, poor Pigbin! There’s not really much to say about him; the very *idea* of him is in poor taste, needless to say. But I have to admit, I crack up every time his ‘rustic’ musical theme plays, and his death is so unnecessary that . . . well, you just can’t help feeling sorry for the cracked old stereotype, can you?

First of all, I am not reviewing this as a fan. I was a fan of the old series, but I will not let this cloud my judgement.

One of the biggest problems of die - hard fans is that when reviewing they are apt to forget things like how good the storyline is, the plot, even the suspense. The more extreme the fan, the more these things are forgotten.

Firstly, as an episode it absolutly failed. RTD clearly did not know how to inroduce a series in a 45 minute episode. It is always hard introducing a new series, this is why a lot new 45 minute episode series start with a double episode rather than a single one. But with something as important as this series it was almost suicude. Luckily, the series has now found its feet, but it must have been close. The Plotline was almost nonexistant. Everyone I know who watched the series as a kid agreed with this. You simply can't use the excuse that its for modern times. Episodes 6,7,8,9; were modernised and it worked. But for modern TV standerds this was bad.

Secondly: The Pace. When I first watched it I didn't know quite what to think of the actors because they were hardly given time to breath before their next lines. (Luckily Eccleston and Piper were able to pove themselves in later pisodes). The Pace was so rushed that It was a laugh. There was no suspense, no buildup, no climax worth considering. The Only part that interested me was rose's meeting with clive.

Thirdly: The music. Why on earth have that type of music. It completely wrecked any action worth seeing. Murray Gold isn't a bad composer, but he should have come up with something much better than that.

Overall a bad beginning to a series that would eventually right itself. 3/10

When perusing my reviews of “classic” Who, – if you remotely care; I’m just covering myself, here - you may chance to observe a recurring theme: repetitive criticism. Generally, I find 1963-89 serials (1996 aside, for convenience) to be characterized by at least (1) precarious screenwriting, (2) the sacrifice of character over all-consuming plot constraints, (3) a poor performance by the respective supporting casts, and (4) no pay-off – anticlimax. I’ll allow an exception for tremulous cardboard sets, as these can be attributed to oft-alluded budgetary limitations. Ergo, scripting figures particularly largely in my value system – something else that may become explicit and/or implicitly salient given time.

The Three Doctors, alas, adheres to these proposed criteria. Fortunately, it isn’t a prototypical example. Unfortunately, this is one instance where I’ll have to condone the scenery outright – the antagonist’s anti-matter world is just another quarry. Squandered opportunity.

Whilst not a classic, per se, this entry’s fun – a rarity, I’ve sometimes found. The Doctor (Jon Pertwee) is abetted by The Doctor (Patrick Troughton), with somewhat handicapped input from The [other] Doctor (William Hartnell). Their mission: to tackle the lamented, but very much ‘alive’ Time Lord Omega (Stephen Thorne) – whose Will inhabits the aforementioned idyllic landscape.

So, let’s review. The script is okay – although I wish characters wouldn’t whisperingly refer to Omega’s ‘blob’ extensions as “organism-things”. *Pedantic gripe over.* Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart (Nicholas Courtney) is frustratingly treated as an imbecile – refusing to believe Doctor #2’s periodic revelations. Yes, he’s a layperson to The Doctor’s interstellar lifestyle, but by now he should exhibit more faith.

This four-parter may be “fun” due to its falsification of my second criterion. For once, the concept of character is given free rein – mounted on equal footing to plot. The rivalry and repartee between the bickering second and third Doctors is a delight. First inspired idea: have The Doctor meet his past ‘selves’. Second idea: have him fall out with himself. It’s a shame Hartnell was unable to contribute more and in person.

The supporting cast disappoints. The ever-eagle-eyed Katy Manning (Jo Grant), John Levene (Sgt. Benton), Denys Palmer (Cpl. Palmer) et al. can’t act. ‘Nuff said. Thorne is excellent in his role at first, utilizing his voice and behaviour, unlike most villains, who typically and unimaginatively rely on costumed appearance – surely a series landmark? Sadly, he gradually metamorphosizes into a pantomime villain… Dr. Tyler (Rex Robinson) strikes me as an oddity. The Time Lords are sufficiently bland; Clyde Pollit is amiable as the Chancellor, easily outshining stiff-lipped Roy Purcell (President of the Council) and the distractingly-bearded Graham Leaman. Why not portray them as seemingly-omnipotent and mysterious shadowy figures? Laurie Webb exudes a larger-than-life personality and suave charisma as the esteemed Mr. Ollis. His forename is shrouded in secrecy, and only revealed in the final scene by Mrs. Ollis (Patricia Prior). Unfortunately, I can’t remember it just now. 

The Final Confrontation isn’t that anticlimactic.

Overall, The Three Doctors is a joy on first viewing. It’s burdened with traditional Who flaws (I could go on and on…), but the impish second Doctor’s return and Omega’s introduction (watch this space) make this entry entertaining and more accessible than most. ***[/5]

After over 15 years of waiting, Doctor Who returns to our screens in a burst of creative ideas, visual effects, and a firm foundation into the 21st Century.

'Rose' is one of the band of Doctor Who stories that really needs a second viewing in order to really get into it. The initial shock of how different the series relates to the stories of yesteryear takes some getting used to, but upon second viewing, one can really appreciate the programme as a whole.

'Rose' follows Rose Tyler’s journey as she faces walking shop dummies, and a mysterious stranger known as the Doctor, who isn't all that he seems.

The acting of the episode is top notch, but the portrayal of Mickey just doesn't seem to fit in. He represents the clown, and, apart from giving Rose a purpose in helping the Doctor, serves little to the plot.

The humour of the episode is very strongly played, and is digestible with an open mind, but the burping wheelie bin gag is just too OTT in order to be accepted. The plastic Mickey is a good concept, but has clownish faults, which detract from the possible drama of the episode.

The Autons are a welcome return to the series, but the invasion at the climax to the programme suffers from being over-shadowed by its predecessors of Spearhead From Space and Terror of the Autons. However, the sequence does work well, as do the scenes with the Nestene Consciousness, which (albeit possibly intentional) is inaudible, a factor that detracts from the piece yet does abolish the stereotypical Doctor Who ideology that all Aliens appear to speak English (which is further picked up by the next episode) 

In all 'Rose' is a good story, but not a great one, but in all it is fair to lament that it is Doctor Who and it is back.

Maybe I just have a strong constitution, but there are very few Doctor Who stories that I find really boring. I'd even give The Monster Of Peladon an average rating, and that's usually seen as one of the show's biggest turkeys. Underworld though, like The Leisure Hive, is one of the few stories to really make me want to drop off: so much so that I had to review it in two parts, and the only other occasion I've had to do that is with The War Games which is four hours long [for posterity I should note that at this stage I haven't done The Invasion, The Daleks' Master Plan or anything else like that].

Possibly because I'm just really badly disposed to this story, Tom Baker in his art gear really gets on my nerves. This quirkiness of character is far from rare in the Williams era, but it's so devoid of any relation to anything that happens at any point in the story that you have to wonder what the point was: it's as if Bob Baker wrote the scene while Dave Martin crossed "be Doctorish" off his list with his pencil. Very quickly though we get to see the story's one selling point: its superb model work, also a common feature of the Williams era. The nebula is pretty enough and the R1C is a good model but it's the set design that lets the show down, all flat mud browns and blank spaces. You'd think that with so much of the story set in dank caves they'd have put a bit of colour in where they could, but no. The acting is poor too, with only Alan Lake as Herrick making any effort. When we first meet them they are going over what the TARDIS materialisation sound could have been which is fine up to a point, because it's what they conceivably would be talking about, but since the audience knows the answer to their questions there's really no need to dwell on the subject as much as the episode does.

Baker immediately explains why the Time Lords are thought by the Minyans to be gods, so that any sense of mystery that could be generated fizzles out. The Minyans' catch phrase of "the quest is the quest" isn't exactly spine tingling either, as well as not making much sense.

All is not a total loss on the design front as the shield guns are a nice idea, although Leela fires one without even knowing what it is. The happy guns, a sort of valium in energy form, are another nice idea but let down by Louise Jameson's poor acting (although she has improved since season fourteen). The initial set up of the plot is then given to the audience: it's a good one (hey, those ancient Greeks knew how to tell a story) but poorly delivered by the maudlin James Maxwell as Jackson. I'm annoyed as well to see K9 yet again being used to solve a plot point.

Imogen Bickford-Smith as Tala doesn't liven up for her regeneration, but it's nice to see that Tom Baker is still capable of serious moments among the clowning. The meteors outside the ship look fantastic, leading to the story's best cliffhanger. The fact that they escape only to crash again shows how much of a lazy excuse for an episode ending, but the crash itself looks great.

Now we see the caves of the P7E planet. The models, while well made, don't exactly hold the viewer after three episodes of nothing but brown and, while the CSO is much better than average, the lack of shadow or any interaction with the environment means that it never looks really real. However, I am pleased to hear that they at least made an effort with the sound effects, and the echoes work well.

The guards look ridiculous in their KKK / '70s bell bottom uniforms, but at least they tried here (veiled reference to The Long Game? Surely not!). However, no thought has gone into what separates them from the miners: it's as if the Oracle simply arbitrarily made some of the Minyan descendants slavers and others slaves. That, frankly, is not a wholly satisfying explanation.

It shows how uninspired the story is when something as pedestrian as poison gas is held off for ages to make a cliffhanger (how many times has Doctor Who featured poison gas? As many times as laser guns, okay, but how many people would put "Klieg pulls laser gun on Doctor" in their top ten cliffhangers? Right then). The moment becomes even worse when you consider that the Doctor explains how he's going to get out of it before the credits roll. Halfway through and I'm struck with how hopeless and pointless it all feels: the references to Jason And The Argonauts, potentially a good idea, now feel like a way of avoiding coming up with a proper plot.

Why does it take the guard leaders so long to notice there's gas pumping into the control room, when everyone around them has collapsed and they can't see their hands in front of their faces? Their threats to Idas's (another plank) father (and another) are delivered with a similar lack of enthusiasm, which undermines their menace ("I'd kill you now, but I'm on my lunch").

The 'centre of gravity' scenes make no sense at all. I'm not going into the physics of it, but shouldn't there be some sort of gradual decline rather than just walking through a door and finding yourself floating about? Dudley Simpson doesn't help either; I can't work out if putting lift music into the scene where the Doctor, Leela and Idas float downwards is a really good joke or just really stupid: either way, it lets down an OK special effects scene. The sword of Damocles scene is just about interesting, maybe because the colour scheme of the room it takes place in is something other than mud brown.

Herrick's sacrifice is stupid and pointless: he does it to set up the narrative for later rather than for any reason appropriate to the time. The fact that Norman Stewart's handling of action scenes is so inept doesn't help either. However, the idea that the Oracle is using "sky-falls" to systematically cull the population of the planet is a very unsettling one, and injects a bit of life into the story for an all-too-brief period.

The Seers look utterly ridiculous, possibly the most unintentionally funny monsters of all time. There are just so many jokes…the jumping bean analogy isn't a new one, but if you combine that description with a cross between the ghosts from Pac Man and a whack-a-mole game you could be getting close. The cliffhanger is another useless one, as the direction is so poor that it's unclear what's going on. Don't they want to get tipped into the machine? Why else are they in the cart?

The fourth episode is more of the same really. The Oracle sounds good (a bit like the baddie from Ghostbusters actually) and isn't exactly original, but if it ain't broke…

Why doesn't K9 spot that the race banks are really grenades sooner? The planet escape sequence is well done, with more excellent model work, particularly the destruction of the planet. The Oracle states that it deserves death, which is an original twist on the megalomaniac idea, but the fact that she is consigning all her people to death makes this seems slightly less magnanimous. Even when they are facing destruction though, the Seers just don't give a monkeys. The exploding planet kills every single baddie, pushing up the story's mortality rate to just over 46%.

The final mistake is for the Doctor to directly talk about Jason And The Argonauts, as what starts out as a (relatively) subtle reference now becomes part of the plot itself leading to questions such as "why?" and "how?". I don't even want to think about it to be honest; I'm just glad it's over.

Underworld is a poor, poor story but I wouldn't put it as low as some: the 2003 Outpost Gallifrey poll puts it in the bottom three episodes of all time, but for me it's too lifeless and dull to reach the levels of obnoxiousness needed to get a bottom of the barrel rating. It comes to something when an episode's mediocrity works in its favour like this, but that about sums up Underworld: it is a hard story to sit through and is a low point of Tom Baker's tenure.