‘The Seeds of Death’ is something of a mixed bag. On the one hand, it is an entertaining, well-directed story with good use of monsters; on the other it drags in places and features several plot contrivances that are hard to swallow. 

The return of the Ice Warriors is both welcome and well handled. In their debut story, they were a small group of stranded aliens, aggressive and ruthless but motivated by survival above all other concerns. Here, they are a well-organized invasion force operating from a position of strength, and this makes a considerable difference. In ‘The Ice Warriors’ their leader Varga was a bully; here, their leader Slaar is positively sadistic. He clearly enjoys psychologically tormenting the terrified Fewsham and deals out casual death to anyone who stands in the way of his plans. In episode three, his decision to kill the Doctor by T-matting him into space is pure sadism; it would be quicker and easier to have him shot by one of his warriors, but instead he chooses an elaborate and unpleasant means of execution simply because he can, and he relishes the opportunity to force Fewsham to accept his part in the Doctor’s apparent death. Alan Bennion plays the character well, making Slaar both commanding and thoroughly unlikable. As a result, the Doctor’s smug revelations about just how thoroughly he has been defeated in episode six are extremely satisfying. Slaar’s distinctive slim-line costume also makes him stand out from his warriors, and is an impressive addition to the Ice Warrior mythology, demonstrating the hierarchy within their ranks. The Grand Marshal also serves this purpose, and contrasts nicely with Slaar in that he seems far more pragmatic than his cruel subordinate, concerned purely with the survival of his fleet and reprimanding Slaar for his casual slaughter of Fewsham, which necessitates the acquisition of a replacement human and thus jeopardizes the Ice Warriors’ plans. It is also a nice detail that the Grand Marshal, safely ensconced in the atmosphere on board his ship, does not rasp and wheeze like the warriors on the moon base. For the most part, the other Ice Warriors are little more than muscle, but during episodes five and six, the lone Ice Warrior sent to Earth does plenty to enhance the Ice Warriors’ reputation, proving as he does almost unstoppable; he literally shrugs aside bullets and dispatches numerous guards as he makes his way to the weather control centre and retains control of it. In short, the Ice Warriors make for truly impressive monsters and are very intimidating. 

The supporting cast is generally very good, with Terry Scully’s convincingly frightened Fewsham worthy of special mention. His eventual stand against Slaar, essential to the denouement and resulting, inevitably, in his death, is a touchingly noble moment, and works doubly well because of his fear-motivated acquiescence up to that point. Having almost been responsible for the success of the Martian invasion by T-matting the seedpods to Earth, he manages to redeem himself to a degree in his final scene. Ronald Leigh-Hunt and Philip Ray make for a likeable pair, both with different motivations and a bitter past history between them, who rekindle their old friendship and respect in the face of adversity. Louise Pajo is also memorable as Miss Kelly, who is highly efficient and a rare (during this era) strong female character, who is nowhere near as icy and impassive as some reviewers would have us believe. Christopher Coll’s Phipps, a man who has seen most of his friends die but who struggles on in the fight against the Ice Warriors is also well acted and contrasts nicely with Fewsham, whose response to the warriors is far less admirable. The one flaw in this otherwise excellent ensemble of supporting characters is the thoroughly irritating Sir James Gregson, who is a walking bureaucratic clichй. 

This is starting to sound repetitive, but the regulars are, of course, excellent. Troughton gets some great moments here (although his fluctuating sideburns are extremely distracting). The Doctor’s quick decision to offer to pilot Eldred’s rocket is typical of the character, whose first instinct is always to help those in need. In comparison with the terrorized moon base personnel, his casual confidence in his ability to handle the Ice Warriors is even more impressive than usual and indeed the Doctor is very much the hero here, more than he ever is; without the Doctor, Eldred’s rocket would probably have never reached the moon, and the Ice Warriors would probably have been successful in their invasion attempt. He also gets some typically marvellous moments, including his “I’m a genius” line and his amusing but never quite over the top buffoonery with the foam at the end of episode five. The ease with which Jamie takes space-travel in his stride is typical of the character’s usual capability and also his almost tangible faith in the Doctor. As with the Doctor, his bravery in tackling the Ice Warrior in the solar energy room contrasts brilliantly with the (entirely understandable) terror of the T-mat staff, reminding us once again just who the stars of the story are. Zoe too continues to impress, remaining relatively calm when problems arise on board the rocket, with which she demonstrates considerable expertise. Her insistence at going to change the temperature settings in the control room, which almost proves fatal, results in one of her rare losses of composure as an Ice Warrior trains its weapon on her, but she quickly recovers, once more demonstrating how much better suited to travelling with the Doctor she is than Victoria was. 

The direction is excellent, especially during the scenes of the rocket take off, as the countdown is superimposed on Miss Kelly’s face (a simple, but effective technique), and the model work is generally of a very high standard. There are some very impressive shots during episode three, as the Doctor finds himself reflected in bizarre ways in the walls of the moon base; corridors have never looked so interesting. In spite of all this praise however, there are problems with ‘The Seeds of Death’. Firstly, some of the costumes are awful; whilst the female characters’ costumes are all passable, the male T-mat staff members look ridiculous, due to the strange decision to make it look as though they are wearing underpants on the outside. The Perspex helmets worn by the security guards look ridiculous too, and rather impractical. Then there is the excessive use of labeling; everything is labeled in big letters, which say things like “Dry”. Firstly, surely weather control is more complicated than just being wet or dry, and secondly this just looks ridiculous. The worst example is the sign that says “rocket homing beacon operative” in big letters over the door. I can’t think of any specific logical objection to this, I just think it looks daft. 

The eponymous seeds never look like anything other than balloons, and the fungus is painfully obviously being sprayed out of a foam machine. I don’t normally criticize Doctor Who for its effects, but in a story this well directed I find this rather disappointing. A far worse problem is the fungus’ susceptibility to water. This is fairly implausible for several reasons; firstly, when attempts are made to destroy the fungus early on, T-mat personnel are clearly seen to be spraying it with pesticides. I’d be very surprised if these weren’t solutions in, well, water. Citric acid certainly is and the Doctor pours this over a pod in episode five. If absolutely pure water is necessary to kill the fungus, I hope they don’t have acid rain in the future… I also find it hard to believe that weather control is so efficient that a single warrior sent to London can stop it raining all across the Northern hemisphere by sabotaging a single control panel. And surely the Ice Warriors must have noticed that the majority of the Earth’s surface is covered in water? Surely they could have come up with something a bit less desperate. My other major criticism of the story is that although for the most part it doesn’t feel padded, it does rather drag during episode two, as the rocket makes its journey to the moon. Ironically, such a rapid journey is beyond the realms of current technology, but I still find the rocket subplot dull. I also can’t believe that everybody on Earth besides Eldred has totally lost interest in space travel thanks to the development of T-mat and that no provision has been made for unexpected emergencies on the moon. Finally, I can’t help but cringe every time I see the temperature gauge needle creep up past sixty degrees centigrade at the end of episode four and the start of episode five; raising the temperature is one thing, but this is totally implausible and is such a trivial mistake that there is no excuse for it. 

Overall, ‘The Seeds of Death’ is flawed but always entertaining. I wouldn’t call it a classic, but it has much to offer and its always fun in a sad fanboy sort of way to spot the TARDIS’ astral map from ‘The Web Planet’ in Eldred’s museum and the drill from ‘The Dominators’ in his lab. That’s quite an impressive collection he’s got…

The Mind Robber is one of the most unique serials in the history of Doctor Who. It’s a strange mix of 60’s psychedelia, fairy tales, pop culture, and literature. The story is the square peg of season six. Season six is mostly composed of standard science fiction fare such as The Krotons, The Invasion, and The Seeds of Doom. The Mind Robber is a nice alternative to the alien invasion story.

One of the most beloved aspects of this story is the wide array of characters that the Doctor, Jamie, and Zoe encounter. Giant toy soldiers and Medusa, the gorgon, menace the TARDIS crew. The Doctor and co. also meet the famed traveller Gulliver, the futuristic superhero Karkus, and the great romantic Cyranno de Bergerac. This story features one of the show’s most interesting concepts. Writer Peter Ling created a world of pure concept where the Doctor’s will and cunning are put to the ultimate test.

Patrick Troughton is of course amazing as the Doctor. Frazier Hines and Wendy Padbury are entertaining as always. Emrys Jones plays the controller of the fantasy world, bringing to life one of Doctor Who’s most unusual villains. Doctor Who guest star extraordinaire Bernard Horsfall is delightful as Gulliver. Horsfall would also guest star in the epic The War Games and the landmark serial The Deadly Assassin.

While the cast and script of The Mind Robber are both excellent, I do have two small reservations about the story. I felt that the story was a little too slow moving towards the beginning. The white void of episode 1 was an interesting visual concept, but not for long. The story is also “padded,” a familiar affliction of Doctor Who which affects many classic stories, i.e. Genesis of the Daleks and the previously mentioned The War Games. There are too many scenes of the Doctor, Jamie, and Zoe wandering around the dark, drab set. Those problems are small and do not diminish The Mind Robber’s status as one of Doctor Who’s most creative stories. 

After viewing our favourite Time Lord vanquishing alien after alien and robot after robot, it is nice to find him meeting Rapunzel and Cyranno De Bergerac. The story also has a very trippy late 60’s vibe which I found very enjoyable. All in all, The Mind Robber is required viewing for those Doctor Who fans that wish to see something different.

Robert Holmes is probably my favourite Doctor Who writer. He was great at characterisation, usually devised excellent plots, and had an unprecedented grasp of what, in my opinion, makes great Doctor Who. The unfairly maligned ‘The Krotons’ showcased his burgeoning talents, but unfortunately his Doctor Who writing career took a mercifully brief nosedive with ‘The Space Pirates’; frankly, tedium is only one of its many flaws. 

The most obvious problem with ‘The Space Pirates’ is that it is dull. At six episodes, it is way too long, and although this is apparently intended to convey the vast distances involved in space travel, it makes for a horrendously padded story. The plot is simply, which is not in itself necessarily a problem, but when everything else is lacking, more complex storytelling would have been welcome. Basically, Cavan’s pirates blow up some beacons, Milo Clancey is chief suspect in the eyes of General Hermack of the Space Corps, Hermack spends most of the story chasing Clancey (and a false trail to Lobos), whilst Clancey teams up with the Doctor and his friends to track the pirates to Ta, where they are secretly being funded by Madeleine Issigri. The truth is revealed, Cavan gets blown up, and everyone goes home. There is not enough plot to justify four episodes, let alone six. Apologists for ‘The Space Pirates’ argue that it is impossible to fairly judge it since we are denied the excellent model work of the various space ships. This might be a valid point, but I remain unconvinced by it due the evidence of the surviving episode two. The model work in this episode is indeed very good for the era, but I don’t think it is so good that it alone could maintain my interest for the whole story. 

With the exception of Milo Clancey, who I’ll come to further below, most of the supporting characters, usually very well served by a Robert Holmes script, are rather forgettable. The Space Corps officers are especially dull, and suffer even more from woefully wooden acting and some dodgy accents. Hermack teeters on the edge of being portrayed as a complete moron; it is painfully obvious from the moment that he finds that Madeleine owns several Beta Darts that she is involved with the pirates, but he is seemingly blinded to this by the fact that she is a young woman. For the rest of the story, he blunders about in space chasing Clancey and Cavan, getting increasingly irritable and taking it out on the annoyingly cheerful Major Warne. At least he gets to give the order to blow Cavan up at the end. The villains of the piece, the eponymous space pirates, are equally forgettable. Dudley Foster tries hard as Cavan, who is scripted as a really nasty piece of work, but the character is so lacking in charisma that he is utterly forgettable. Unfortunately, whilst Cavan is portrayed as quietly psychotic, by the final episode the script calls for him to switch to full-blown megalomania, as he attempts to blow up his entire base (and ultimately, himself – “we’ll all die together!”), but it doesn’t ring true. Every time I watch/listen to the story, I can’t help thinking that it would be more in character for him to just bugger off to safety. The only other pirate of note is the weak-willed Dervish. He gets some potentially important characterisation, as we learn that he was blackmailed by Cavan into working for him and would really rather not be, but this embryonic subplot doesn’t go anywhere, since he’s so terrified that he simply won’t risk betraying Cavan. The trouble is, although one or two scenes demonstrate his fear of Cavan, there are also scenes in which Brian Peck seems to forget about his character’s motivation and talks to Cavan as though they are drinking buddies. 

Madeleine Issigri is passable, but I’m never entirely convinced by her motivation. Originally not realizing that Cavan, a wanted criminal and budding space pirate, might at some point kill people, she is revealed to have joined forces with him for profit. But she’s already rich and she’s made out to be basically soft and fluffy at heart, so this is rather unconvincing. If Cavan had been using her father as a hostage from the start, it might have worked better, but she doesn’t even know that he’s still alive until episode five. And there’s another thing; we’re told that Dom vanished ten years previously, and the implication is that Cavan has been keeping him locked in his study all that time. I don’t care how tough or resilient he was when he was locked up, but I don’t believe that anyone can endure ten years of solitary confinement in a small room without becoming extremely ill. Even if his sanity held out, he’d be lucky if he could walk when he got out, let alone hobble speedily along with Milo to get to the LIZ. 

The chief success of ‘The Space Pirates’ is Milo Clancey. Despite a suspicious accent, Gordon Gostelow runs with the role, making the most of Holmes’ script. Clancey is very entertaining, from his first appearance in episode two, when he has a rather amusing and disrespectful audience with General Hermack, right up until episode six, when he helps to save the day. Unfortunately, Holmes writes him so enthusiastically that he becomes a Mary Sue character; Milo gets more to do than anyone except the Doctor, who is just about on an equal footing with him. ‘The Space Pirates’ is the only Troughton story that I can think of in which the Doctor and his companions are not separated at all during the story. This reduces Jamie and Zoe to their most basic possible role, used purely so that the Doctor can explain things to them, and therefore the audience. Jamie suffers the most, because he’s essentially replaced by Milo. Even the Doctor doesn’t much to do. The TARDIS arrives quite late in episode one, the Doctor and his companions spend all of episode two trapped on the beacon segment, and after that they follow Milo’s lead to Ta where they get locked up twice, and run along corridors. The Doctor is responsible for diffusing the bombs at the end, but almost everything else in the story could have been achieved without him being there. Yes, he opens the cell door, sets up an electrical booby trap and comes up with the plan to escape from Dom’s study, but it all feels like window dressing. Despite this, all three regular actors do what they can with the script, and to the story’s credit, the plight of the TARDIS crew in episode two is genuinely nightmarish and claustrophobic, as they slowly run out of air, which is convincingly acted. 

In short, Patrick Troughton’s penultimate Doctor Who story is a huge disappointment. The best thing that I can say about ‘The Space Pirates’ is that it heralds the end of missing episodes, as from here on in everything survives in the archives.

As dйbut stories go, ‘Spearhead From Space’ is one of the best and far better than Jon Pertwee could ever have hoped for. This is only partially because it was recorded entirely on film; whilst this undoubtedly benefits the production by giving it a unique slick appearance, it is not enough to rescue a mediocre story. Coupled with fine acting, superb direction and a marvellous script, however, it helps to make ‘Spearhead From Space’ a true classic.

Firstly, the new Doctor has to be mentioned. Pertwee makes an impressive Doctor, debonair, charming and immediately commanding. During the first two episodes, he is given little opportunity to make an impression, since the Doctor is suffering somewhat form his regeneration and spends most of the time bed-ridden and unconscious. Even here though, Pertwee makes the most of the script and is immediately charismatic enough to maintain viewer interest. His performance really starts to shine in the latter half of episode two, as the Doctor awakens and makes his escape from the hospital, gaining a new costume on the way. By the time he reaches UNIT HQ in London, his performance hits the pattern that he will stick to throughout his era, occasionally waspish (note his treatment of the speechless guard whom he demands take him to Lethbridge-Stewart), often charming (his first meeting with Liz), and commanding, but above all likeable. For all that he is far more intimidating than Troughton was, he is still very much the Doctor. His rueful performance on leaving the smoking TARDIS and shamefacedly admitting to the Brigadier that he tricked Liz into stealing the TARDIS key so that he could escape shows the Doctor’s vulnerable, almost human side, which shines through the rest of his persona, even when he is irritable and bad-tempered. In this respect, he recalls Hartnell more than Troughton, but also establishes the Third Doctor as a distinct character in his own right as a rather dashing man of action; he leads the raid on Auto Plastics during episode four, heading for a meeting with Channing with Liz whilst the UNIT troops remain outside, despite the danger. The final scene, as the Doctor agrees to remain with UNIT whilst he tries to repair his TARDIS and escape from his exile, sets the pattern for the rest of the season, and of course most of the Pertwee era. And it is also worth noting that for all his desire to escape Earth, once he realises the true threat posed by the Nestenes, he focuses his entire attention on defeating them. 

The other regular cast members of Season Seven also make an impression here. Lethbridge-Stewart is of course a familiar figure, and Nicholas Courtney falls back into his role with great aplomb. The Brigadier seen here is intelligent, commanding, and also diplomatic; despite his military rigidity, which will later be used as a source of fun, he is not portrayed as some hard-nosed stereotypical soldier, but rather a trustworthy and eminently likeable authority figure who listens to those around him and smoothly deals with the cynical Liz Shaw, the terrified Ransome with his seemingly ridiculous story of killer manikins, and later the Doctor. In fact the Brigadier is admirably broad-minded (understandably so after the events of ‘The Web of Fear’ and ‘The Invasion’) and quickly accepts the idea that this tall, debonair, white-haired stranger is the same man as the small, scruffy dark-haired man whom he encountered previously. He also takes Ransome and the Doctor’s theories about the Nestene energy unit seriously, and this plays an important role in defeating the menace he is facing. His relationship with the new Doctor is also quickly established; there is mutual respect between them and the impression of a budding friendship carefully disguised by occasional banter. The Brigadier is clearly prepared to humour his old friend in episode four by agreeing to his various demands in exchange for his help, indicating just how much he values the Doctor’s help. His relationship with Liz Shaw, and her relationship with the Doctor, are also cemented here. Initially, Liz is the voice of cynicism; the rational scientist confronted with the unusual and alien and forced to come to terms with it. To her credit, she does not try to fly in the face of evidence and having been forced to accept that an alien invasion is underway, she pitches in to help, gradually gaining respect for both the Brigadier and the Doctor. Whilst Zoe was highly intelligent and open minded, Liz combines both of these attributes with considerably more maturity, which gives a rather more grown-up feeling to the regular cast and enhances the more adult feeling of Season Seven compared with Season Six. She is able to talk to the Doctor on a more equal footing than many of her predecessors and yet is sufficiently unknowledgeable about the unique problems faced by UNIT that she still provides somebody for the Doctor to explain things to, and thus to the audience. 

After six seasons of stories in which the Doctor can travel anywhere in time and space, the concept of restricting him to Earth during a specific period of time is potentially limiting. Robert Holmes quickly dispels any such fears by establishing the new template for the series with an impressive and memorable threat. The Nestenes are truly alien, a disembodied and utterly malevolent alien intelligence in the mould of the threats from The Quatermass Experiment and Quatermass II. Despite the merciful brief appearance of the unconvincing Nestene monster at the end of episode four, this allows for an alien invasion of Earth that doesn’t resort to rubber monster costumes, and further adds to the adult feel of the new season. The Autons are extremely sinister and creepy monsters and still look great thirty years on. ‘Spearhead From Space’ contains some of the most sinister sequences in the series’ history, including the Auton coming to life behind Ransome at the end of episode two, the Auton advancing remorselessly towards the terrified Mrs. Seely in episode three, and most notably of all, the classic sequence in episode four as shop window dummies come eerily to life, break out of the shop windows, and silently slaughter members of the public. These sequences capture the same sort of impression as those of the Cybermen marching through London in ‘The Invasion’ and earlier the Daleks in ‘The Dalek Invasion of Earth’. Suddenly, the threat faced by the Doctor is on Earth in the present and it makes it all the more frightening. Suddenly, the benefits of the Doctor’s exile become clear. The Autons are simply terrifying, more so even than the Cybermen because whilst they are also remorseless, seemingly unstoppable, and bulletproof, they are also silent. 

So much adds to the success of ‘Spearhead From Space’. The use of colour is an obvious difference, and adds to the slick new look of this film-only story. The incidental music is suitably chilling, and enhances the menace of the Autons. The location work is gorgeous, especially the quaint interior of Ashbridge Cottage Hospital, and of course that shower. The direction is exemplary, with an impressive shot in episode one of the Brigadier and Captain Munro walking towards camera along a corridor. In comparison with modern television programmes it seems almost pointless to mention this, but it signifies such a technical advance compared with the previous Season that in the context of the series it really stands out. Most of all however, ‘Spearhead From Space’ benefits from acting and characterisation. Hugh Burden is almost as sinister as the Autons as Channing, looking remarkably cadaverous and ghastly. Most of his best acting is with his eyes alone; witness the way that they widen with excitement as he orders the “total destruction” of first Ransome and then later Hibbert. There is also some very impressive “Frightened” acting on display; as Ransome, Derek Smee looks genuinely terrified as he gibbers and dribbles tea in Munro’s tent, and Betty Bowden as Meg Seely looks equally frightened as the bullet-proof Auton advances on her in episode three. Then there is John Woodnutt’s tortured Hibbert, Neil Wilson’s shifty Sam Seely who unwittingly holds up the Nestenes’ invasion plans by hoarding the swarm leader to make a quick profit, Antony Webb’s perplexed Doctor Henderson, baffled by the Doctor’s alien physiology but determined to help his patient… the list goes on. 

I could make a couple of criticisms of ‘Spearhead From Space’. The switch from the model shot of the TARDIS materializing to location footage of the Doctor emerging and collapsing is so obvious that it’s painful, and the Nestene monster at the end is crap, but these are such minor criticisms that they vanish under the weight of the story’s good points. Finally, there is the ending, as the Doctor defeats the Nestenes. Yes, it is a deus ex machina ending, the Doctor cobbling together a contraption to defeat the invaders, and it could have been better, but crucially it entirely depends on the Doctor. Without his machine, the Auton invasion would probably have succeeded. Frankly, that exonerates it in my eyes, serving to establish the Doctor’s importance in UNIT’s operation. ‘Spearhead From Space’ shows us the new direction for Doctor Who and it shows it to us with tremendous style.

‘Colony in Space’ is generally regarded as the low point of Season Eight, but not by me. Whilst I do have criticisms of the story, I consider its good points to outweigh its bad ones, and although it is perhaps padded I don’t find it particularly dull as some fans seem to. 

I basically have three criticisms of ‘Colony in Space’. The first is the immediate revelation of the Master’s involvement in the first scene of episode one. Admittedly, given that he has appeared in every story of the season so far, it would be more of a surprise if he didn’t appear, but as the story stands he doesn’t turn up until episode four. Unfortunately, the Time Lords’ discussion in the very first scene make it clear that he is going to put in an appearance at some point, resulting in three episodes of waiting for him to arrive rather than enjoying the events leading up to that point. To add insult to injury, there is a pointless appearance by the Brigadier in which he discusses the Master with the Doctor and Jo. 

My second criticism is slightly more obscure, and it involves the Doctor’s attitude to the colony. From the moment that he meets Ashe, he encourages the colonists to fight to save the colony, first against the harsh conditions on the planet and later against IMC. Fair enough, but at no point does he even raise the issue of the colonists’ right to have landed on an inhabited planet without the permission of the indigent population. He takes an interest in the Primitives true, and it is made clear that the colonists generally get on well with them, but I still get a nagging feeling that the Doctor should care more about this issue.

Finally, there is the problem of Norton. He turns up mysteriously from a hitherto unsuspected colony at a time when things are going especially badly for the colonists, and just before IMC arrive, and continuously encourages them to leave Uxarieus. And they never suspect him! Even when the Doctor warns Winton to be wary of Norton, his warning goes unheeded, as a result of which Norton’s last act is ruin the colonists’ ambush in episode four. He’s so clearly suspicious that it beggars belief that none of the colonists seem to suspect him at all. 

Anyway, on to the good stuff. I’m a sucker for ancient races, super weapons and mysterious powerful alien races, so the doomsday weapon plotline immediately biases me in favour of ‘Colony in Space’. Although we learn very little about the Uxarians, their city is well realized, and they generally look quite good, especially the bloated, misshapen faces of the Primitives, the weird appearance of the Priests, and the horribly withered looking Guardian. We learn enough to tantalize me at least, and the revelation about the Crab Nebula is enough to convince the viewer that it would be an extremely bad idea for the Master to have access to the Doomsday Weapon. 

The Colonists versus IMC is hardly original, but again works quite well. This is due largely to Malcolm Hulke’s skill at characterisation; whilst not up to the standards of that in ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’, it is still sufficient to grab interest. Representing IMC, we have Caldwell, Captain Dent, and Morgan. Caldwell, excellently portrayed by Bernard Kay in his fourth Doctor Who role, is simply a miner who wants to do his job, doesn’t want to see anyone get hurt, and eventually gives in to his conscience despite Dent’s bullying. In stark contrast we have Morgan (an unfortunately wooden performance from Tony Caunter), a sadistic thug who is basically in it for the violence. Finally there is Dent, who unlike Morgan is motivated not by vicious glee, but by profit. I rather like Morris Perry’s performance as Dent, although his hair rivals Bill Filer’s for silliest of the season. Dent is cold, calculating and ruthless, but lacks the sadism of his underling. True, after repeated setbacks by the colonists, he develops a desire for revenge, but he retains an air of icy impassivity throughout. This is effective in itself, but doubly so when contrasted with the bombastic charm of the main villain…

The colonists are represented primarily by Winton and Ashe. John Ringham is incapable of crap acting, and gives a solid performance as Ashe, who is idealistic almost to the point of stupidity, but has a touching naivety that gives the character the air of a kicked puppy throughout. Ashe is a man whose dreams and faith in mankind’s better nature are soundly thrashed throughout, until he eventually sacrifices himself heroically to save the colony that he loved so much. Every cloud has a silver lining though; his death spares him from having to listen to his daughter, as played by Helen Worth, an actress whose voice could shatter glass. Then again, as one of only two female colonists we actually get to see, she probably has plenty to be shrill about. Winton is far more pragmatic than Ashe and is competently portrayed by Nicholas Pennell, although I find the character’s impact is lessened by a moustache that puts me in mind of Swedish porn films. 

What really makes ‘Colony in Space’ stand out in my mind are the Doctor and the Master. Firstly, the Doctor alone is worth the price of admission; the change in his demeanour once he steps out the TARDIS onto an alien world for the first time since ‘The War Games’ (probably – there is a time and a place to discuss the Season 6B theory and this isn’t it) is noticeable and worth pointing out to Jon Pertwee’s detractors. The Doctor has been increasingly bad-tempered since the start of the season and his sheer delight at being able to step out onto another world is charming. There is a wonderful scene between the Doctor and Jo, who is understandably nervous at the thought of being on an alien planet for the first time, in which he explains how much it means to him to be able to visit other times and places. Whereas in other, Earthbound, stories the Doctor might have snapped at Jo or been generally short-tempered, here he is bubbling with infectious enthusiasm as the pair of them stand before the open TARDIS doors. It is a marvellous moment as his exile is briefly relaxed by Time Lord decree (the first time we get to see their manipulative side) and it is also crucial to Jo’s acceptance of what the TARDIS really represents; despite her anxiety, he convinces her to explore and she quickly befriends colonists and stands up to IMC thugs as well as she would have done on Earth.

As in the previous three stories, the relationship between the Master and the Doctor is particularly interesting. I’ve noted before that the Master keeps allowing himself to be easily distracted from killing the Doctor and often seems to almost want his approval, whereas the Doctor is far less tolerant of his foe. Here, this trend reaches its peak, as the Master offers the Doctor a half-share in the universe in one of my favourites scenes of the season in episode six. Significantly, there seem to be no strings; the Master has the upper hand and holds the Doctor at gunpoint. He simply does not need to bargain with the Doctor and therefore his offer is clearly genuine. Suddenly, what was suggested in the previous stories is laid bare here; for all their enmity, the Master really does want the Doctor’s approval and even, perhaps, his friendship. The Doctor on the other hand does not return the sentiment, as he makes clear by exasperatedly explaining that he only wants to see the universe, not rule it. The look of sheer fury that crosses the Master’s face at that moment smacks of disappointment and speaks volumes about just how highly he secretly regards the Doctor. It almost suggests that everything he’s done since ‘Terror of the Autons’ is attention seeking more than anything else; he might want power, but he wants the Doctor’s respect far more. 

That pretty much sums up ‘Colony in Space’. I have one or two minor criticisms that I didn’t mention above, but these are very trivial; Jo’s surprise that the TARDIS can move is one, since this story follows ‘The Claws of Axos’. Another is the fact that the Master took several security precautions after the Doctor stole his dematerialization circuit in ‘Terror of the Autons’. So why didn’t fit a lock with a metabolism detector like the one the Doctor’s TARDIS has in ‘Spearhead From Space’? The Doctor could probably break in anyway, since the Master broke into his TARDIS in ‘The Claws of Axos’, but it might slow him down a bit. Overall, ‘Colony in Space’ is generally regarded to be a bit of a turkey, but I really like it. This is almost ironic, given that the following story is often considered to be a true classic and the highlight of the Pertwee years, but for me is the Pertwee era’s equivalent of a steaming pile of horse manure.

After two fairly dire stories, 'Carnival of Monsters' is a welcome reprieve. It is well acted, well scripted, extremely amusing, and boasts great monsters. 

The plot of 'Carnival of Monsters' is suitably ingenious, engaging the viewer by presenting two seemingly unrelated scenarios, one of the Doctor and Jo arriving on board the S. S. Bernice, and the other of Vorg and his assistant Shirna arriving on the bureaucracy-choked world of Inter Minor. Gradually of course, the truth unfolds about exactly where the TARDIS has materialized and where the S. S. Bernice actually is; with this mystery solved, Holmes then introduces further sub-plots, namely the Drashigs and Kalik's schemes to usurp his brother's rule of Inter Minor. Because of the way in which Holmes structures the story, this gradually shifting emphasis throughout the story means that rather a lot seems to happen, making for an immensely satisfying four episodes. Enjoyable though the plot is however, it is the actual script that makes it come alive, as it showcases Holmes' talent for characterisation. 

All of the characters in 'Carnival of Monsters' are distinctive, the result of the excellent script combined with uniformly superb acting from the guest cast. The three principle characters on board the ship - Tenniel Evans' Major Daly, Ian Marter's John Andrews, and Jenny McCraken's Claire Daly - are well acted, and this helps to make them memorable. The script defines them in broad strokes, a necessity given that their situation results in a limited repertoire of lines. Daly is a stereotypical colonial type, worrying about etiquette on one hand (he is keen to offer the Doctor and Jo his hospitality when they first meet), whilst making sweeping and distasteful racial slurs about his plantation workers. Likewise, Andrews is a clichйd square-jawed naval officer, devoted to his ship and bravely facing the threat of plesiosaurs and drashigs alike with stern resolve. He boxes, of course, adhering strictly to Marquis of Queensbury rules. And then there is Jenny, who looks pretty on the arm of her gallant soldier, who stands bravely in front of her when danger threatens. Despite being written as such clichйs, all three characters are brought alive by the actors playing them. This enhances the beauty of these characters, which is that they are on display for the entertainment of others; they are pure stereotypes, beloved by filmmakers of a certain era, and they are present in Vorg's Miniscope as examples of what Tellurians are like. 

In contrast to these deliberate ciphers, we are presented with the characters on Inter Minor. Vorg and Shirna are great characters, again very well acted by Leslie Dwyer and Cheryl Hall. Holmes seems to have a talent for creating rather shifty but generally likeable individuals, and Vorg in particular is a classic example. Desperate to try and justify the cost of his visit to Inter Minor, he generally tries (rather poorly) to con his way into the tribunal's good books, mainly by trying to confuse them or simply by lying. Particularly entertaining is his offering of a note signed by the Great Zarb, who it transpires is a wrestler and not President Zarb of Inter Minor. In this respect, Vorg is best summed up at the end, as he plays "find the lady" with Pletrac. But again, there is more to Vorg than first meets the eye; despite his often cowardly banter and frequent protestations about putting his hand into the Miniscope whilst the Drashig are loose inside, when they eventually escape from the machine, it is Vorg who leaps into action with the eradicator and dispatches them. On the other hand, whilst he is generally rather likeable at first glance, he is also both childish and selfish; realizing that the Drashigs might escape, his first instinct is to abandon the 'scope and sneak off the planet, leaving the Minorians to them. In addition, he displays no concern whatsoever for his "livestock", even in episode four; at best he is indifferent to both the Doctor's survival and his success. It is here that Shirna comes in, since she acts to a degree as his conscience, persuading him to save the Doctor and Jo at the start of episode three, and also convincing to actually bother pulling the phase two switch in episode four, thus saving them a second time. She is also notably more honest with the tribunal than Vorg. Basically, this interaction makes Vorg and Shirna the first example of the so-called "Holmes double-act" in my opinion; together, they work far better than either of them would alone. Vorg is both funnier and superficially a more interesting character than Shirna, but Shirna appeals to his better nature in such a way that he becomes more likeable than he perhaps deserves. Their most amusing moment, in my opinion, is when Vorg tells Shirna to touch a wire, and then when she gets a shock nods wisely and notes that it must be the live terminal. 

The Inter Minorians are equally interesting. Firstly, it is worth noting that Holmes has a real knack of giving the impression of a larger scale than is seen on screen when he uses an alien setting. To draw a comparison with a later studio-bound alien world in Doctor Who, consider briefly Atrios from 'The Armageddon Factor'. For all the impression we get of Atrios, it might as well be a country at war with its neighbour rather than a planet. It is a classic example of an alien planet represented by one or two small sets, with a cast of characters who might as well be on Earth. There is nothing to convince the viewer in that story that the action is actually taking place on an alien planet, save for mentions of spacecraft. In fairness to that story, this is a problem prevalent in science fiction; consider any alien planet from fiction and then start thinking about the sheer number of countries, religions, ideologies, cultures and environments on Earth and of course it becomes clear that it is virtually impossible to even begin to approach such complexity in a larger story, especially in four twenty-five minute episodes of a television show. The point of all this is that Holmes is better than any other Doctor Who scriptwriter that I can think of at managing to actually give us something of an impression of a larger world. For the sake of simplicity, it is implied that Inter Minor, as with most worlds in the series, has a single ruler whose government is in charge of the entire planet, which is of course a far cry from our current situation on Earth, but we do at least get tantalizing snippets of detail. The Functionaries serve no other purpose but to demonstrate some degree of social complexity on Inter Minor; they are very clearly second-class citizens, and they are apparently starting to rebel. We learn that Zarb has only recently opened up the planet to alien visitors, and that his new, liberal approach is at odds with the views of the more right wing citizens, including Kalik. Even this is not clear cut; however liberal Kalik considers his brother to be, he favours capitol punishment for treason, and there are vague hints that his definition of traitor includes anyone who vocally disagree with him. In short, Holmes' gives us hints of social and political unrest, which makes Inter Minor considerably more than just a studio set with a gun and peepshow in it. 

Individually, the Minorians all work very well. Peter Halliday and Michael Wisher in particular are two of Doctor Who's most reliable occasional actors, and Terence Lodge stands up well next to them as Orum. As the devious Kalik, Wisher is excellent, playing the part in a very Machiavellian manner with frequent smug looks and superior sneers, but never going over the top. Kalik's ruthlessness becomes more and more evident as the story progresses, beginning with him criticizing Zarb's policies to Pletrac and Orum, to the sudden calculating look on his face when he learns of the Drashigs' legendary reputation, and eventually his plan to allow the Drashigs out of the 'scope to satisfy his naked ambition. The fact that he consequently gets eaten immediately on doing so is thus enormously satisfying. Orum is basically Kalik's henchman, easily led and happy to follow Kalik's orders. Lodge brilliantly portrays him as a sniveling, odious figure lacking both the wit and the courage to seek power on his own, but happy to bask in Kalik's intended glory. Finally, Peter Halliday is excellent as the fussy Pletrac, who is honest and even well-meaning, but who is utterly constrained by bureaucracy and obsessed with protocol, a fact that Kalik exploits several times. 

The regulars return to form here, Jo proving useful as she again shows off her escapology skills, and generally coming across as more than just a dumb assistant. This story nicely demonstrates the genuine affection between Jo and the Doctor, chiefly through numerous minor lines dialogue and through the rapport between Katy Manning and Jon Pertwee. Having been on autopilot for the last three stories, Pertwee really seems to be enjoying himself here, possibly happy to be faced with an intelligent and interesting script. Particularly enjoyable is they way in which the Doctor pretty much dismisses the tribunal once he escapes from the 'scope, both by threatening them with official reprisals for allowing a Miniscope to operate on their planet, and generally fobbing them off. Given that much of the Inter Minor subplot has been driven by Vorg's problems with the tribunal, this does wonders for the Doctor's air of authority, which had been watered down in recent stories. 

The Drashigs are great monsters. It's actually quite unusual for Doctor Who monsters to be such literal monsters rather than alien races (hostile or otherwise), but the unintelligent, insatiable Drashigs are real monsters in the mold of dragons or other mythical beasts. They look very effective, despite being puppets, with very convincing teeth and genuinely chilling roars. The Drashigs highlight another worthy aspect of 'Carnival of Monsters', which is Barry Letts' direction. I criticized his over-enthusiastic use of CSO when I reviewed 'Terror of the Autons', but here he uses it more sparingly. CSO from this era is always noticeable, which is simply a limitation of the technology of the time, but when used well it is far less intrusive; even when the Drashigs are loose on Inter Minor, the CSO is passable, and by cutting quickly between model and CSO shots, Letts manages to use it effectively. The location work both on the ship and in the marshes also works very well. 

In summary, 'Carnival of Monsters' is a true gem and in my opinion one of the highlights of the Pertwee era.