Oh dear. For some fans, ‘The Dжmons’ epitomizes the Pertwee era; if this is true, then the Pertwee era isn’t very good. I take no pleasure in slating a story so widely considered to be a classic, but there is so much wrong with ‘The Dжmons’ in my opinion that try as I might, I just can’t find it in me to like it. 

I’ll start with what I do like. I like the basic plot, although this is largely because it is the plot of Quatermass and the Pit. Not that I’m complaining, since many very good Doctor Who stories are hugely derivative of other stories; to continue the Nigel Kneale theme for example, I’d like to point out that ‘Spearhead From Space’ of which I am a huge fan, draws heavily for inspiration on Quatermass II. I merely point it out since it explains why, in a story that is so mediocre in most respects, the basic premise is sound. 

Secondly, I like Jon Pertwee’s performance. It has been argued that the Doctor is at his worst in ‘The Dжmons’, being intolerant, patriarchal, and patronizing. This is all quite true, but it works for me in the context of the season. During the first three stories, he was bad-tempered and irritable, resenting his exile and desperate to escape. In ‘Colony in Space’, he suddenly and unexpectedly gets a brief reprieve from his exile and is markedly more relaxed and generally in better humour than in the three prior stories. It makes sense then that having been reminded so dramatically of what he has lost, he is even more foul-tempered afterwards, his exile once more enforced. Having said that, he goes a bit far with Miss Hawthorne; I don’t believe in magic either, but if I knew that someone who did had just seen a thirty-foot tall were-goat I think I’d be a lot more understanding if they thought that it was the Devil. 

Finally, I like the Master. No change there, then. Interestingly, after offering the Doctor a half-share in the universe in ‘Colony in Space’, he now seems genuinely to want to kill his rival. I’ve noted as I’ve reviewed the past four stories that the Master often finds excuses not to kill the Doctor and seems to want to impress him; having perhaps finally realized that he can’t, he seems to have adopted a “sod him then” attitude, which fits in nicely with his character development over the season. In addition to this, watching this season in sequence, I suddenly realized just how much it must have stung him when Azal offers his power to the Doctor first. This is particularly of note given that being humiliated by the Doctor is his worst fear, as exposed by the Mind Parasite in ‘The Mind of Evil’.

That’s about it for what I like about ‘The Dжmons’; the rest is in my opinion utter dross. For starters, UNIT’s degeneration into farce is complete by this point, all traces of the secretive, paramilitary organization of Season Seven lost. The Brigadier is little more than a buffoon here, doing nothing but blustering and issuing ludicrous orders (“Chap with the wings there…”). Sergeant Osgood, a ridiculous caricature who frequently questions orders, does not help this. Captain Yates is even worse. I’ve made no secret of the fact that I dislike the character, and this story epitomizes my reasons why. Yates is smug, cheeky and generally irritating. I’m no expert on the military, but he seems remarkably lippy when he’s talking to the Brigadier on his radio transmitter, most notably when he smugly tells Lethbridge-Stewart as an afterthought that the Master is responsible for events in Devil’s End and promptly hangs up. He’s even worse when he points out Bok to the Brigadier in Episode Five, adopting an air of superiority and a suppressed mirth as he demonstrates the gargoyle’s threat to his superior. Nice to know he’s getting some amusement out of the impending end of the world then… UNIT basically feels like Dad’s Army and has lost all credibility. Benton at least is quite good here though, John Levene proving quite good at fight scenes. 

‘The Dжmons’ also struggles for cliffhangers. The Episode Four cliffhanger is absurd, with the threat posed not to the Doctor or his companion but to his archenemy. It typifies the silly cosy “UNIT family” attitude adopted by the series. Imagine a cliffhanger in which some Daleks face destruction – the principle would be exactly the same. The cliffhanger to Episode Two is even more flawed, but in its resolution this time. Bok, it is made clear, is a statue animated by Azal, a powerful alien fully aware of how his own people’s psionic science works and with a far greater understanding of it than anyone else present. The Master, an intelligent Time Lord who has been studying Dжmon technology in order to summon Azal, controls Bok. So why exactly is Bok, animated by Azal and controlled by the Master, scared of a trowel? The Doctor’s explanation to Jo that although he doesn’t believe in magic Bok does, smacks of complete bollocks. 

Speaking of complete bollocks, we have the ending. Firstly, I find it hard to believe that Jo’s self-sacrifice is sufficient to make Azal blow himself up: if so, it is no surprise that he is the last of his kind. For starters, he considers the Doctor irrational but shows no sign of self-destructing in response. It is, quite simply, a contrived and nauseating ending. It isn’t helped by the fact that Jo’s cry of “Don’t kill him, kill me” is horribly melodramatic and poorly delivered. She could have just thrown herself in front of the Doctor, as she did in the novelisation, but instead she just bounces frantically up and down and offers herself instead, as though bidding for some kind of terminal auction. 

In short, ‘The Dжmons’ is full of annoying trivial shortcomings that add up to drivel. The story feels as though it is struggling to fill five episodes, with UNIT wrestling with technobabble outside the heat barrier (which incidentally is quite well realized and one of the story’s better aspects). Then we have the Doctor stating that the release of heat energy in Episode Two is final confirmation of his theory about what is happening, but then refusing to explain to anyone else until he is certain. So what, precisely, does he think “final confirmation” means? What he actually means is, “I’ll explain in Episode Three so that we can crowbar another cliffhanger in first”. To be fair, there are also other minor things that I like in ‘The Dжmons’, including Professor Horner, the final scene, and Azal himself – Stephen Thorne is not the most subtle of actors, but he fulfills his role very well here. Overall however, I just find ‘The Dжmons’ to be a smug, slightly glib, self-satisfied runaround, playing the UNIT family game by numbers.

‘The Faceless Ones’ is a rather strange story. It is significant for being only the second story set on contemporary Earth thus far in the series, and of course heralds the departure of Ben and Polly. On the other hand, it is oddly forgettable and feels very padded, especially during the first three episodes. This “body snatcher” plot is hardly original, but the Chameleons are a novel threat in that rather than wanting to invade, they are driven by the need to survive by stealing the identities of humans. Their plan is also fairly plausible, although Chameleon Tours cannot have been long established prior to the start of this story or surely more relatives than Samantha would have started to make inquiries; nevertheless, it is suitably engaging and makes good use of the airport setting. As villains the Chameleon’s are reasonably effective, especially Donald Pickering (previously Eyesen in ‘The Keys of Marinus’) as the icy Captain Blade. Unfortunately, they are also rather incompetent in certain aspects, especially Spencer, who fails to kill the Doctor a few times and seems to rather hastily come to the decision that he is unbeatable. This is the problem with ‘The Faceless Ones’ – the script seems to genuinely be trying to impress on the viewer just how intelligent the Chameleons are, with even the Doctor warning the Commandant of this, but they just come over as arrogant incompetents. The Director is perhaps the worst example of this, as he refuses to accept that the originals of Blade et al have been found on Earth, even when “Jenkins” dissolves in front of him, and his rather unnecessary stubbornness over this matter results in Blade shooting him. Frankly, he should have been smart enough to be expecting that… So the Chameleons never quite seem to be the threat that they are made out to be. On the other hand, their plight would deserve of some sympathy and indeed on one level the conclusion works very well, with the Doctor allowing them to leave peacefully as long as they return all their captives to Earth first. But the same groundless arrogance that makes them less impressive than they might be also robs them of any real sympathy, leaving a faint feeling at the end that they get away with mass kidnapping and several murders rather too easily. Ultimately, the Chameleons aren’t nasty enough to be really impressive memorable villains, but they are too nasty to be likeable. 

On the subject of the Chameleon’s over-inflated opinions of themselves, Spencer does one of the stupidest things ever seen in Doctor Who; having decided that the Doctor’s death is of paramount importance, he shuns the use of his lethal ray gun and instead leaves him, Jamie and Samantha in an overly complicated death-trap from which he can, and does, easily escape. I can’t listen to this scene now without thinking of Austin Powers, but the fact is that it is utterly ludicrous. Not only is the slowly moving heat-ray trap daft, but also as soon as Jamie has destroyed the weapon, their paralysis wears off. At least Spencer has the good grace not to seem surprised when he learns that the Doctor escaped. More importantly, this is the most blatant example of the padding that plagues ‘The Faceless Ones’. During the first three episodes, there are multiple escapes, captures and chases, before the plot really starts to progress, and whilst padding can be entertaining in itself if done properly, here it just makes the story drag. The problem is exacerbated by the fact that pseudo-companion Samantha Briggs and the bad-tempered airport Commandant are the only really good supporting characters. The scenes of the Doctor trying to convince the Commandant of his sincerity (and sanity) work rather well, and the Jamie and Samantha team-up is not without merit, but Crossland, who discovers that the Chameleon Tours passengers are apparently vanishing and thus provides the cliffhanger to episode three, is rather dull, and nobody else aside from Blade stands out either. 

And what of the regulars? Rather like Dodo, Ben and Polly get a poor send off; after doing very little during the first two episodes, they are abducted by the Chameleons and don’t reappear until the end, when they promptly leave. Unlike Dodo, they do at least get a rather nice leaving scene, which shows the genuine affection between themselves and the Doctor. They are clearly happy to be able to return home, but the fact that they are more casual about it than Ian and Barbara were suggests that they’ve enjoyed their time aboard the TARDIS a great deal. Nevertheless, it is an annoyingly low-key departure for these most underrated of companions. However, the result of this is that Jamie really gets to shine again and establishes himself as one of the best companions. As in ‘The Macra Terror’, his bravery comes to the fore; initially wary of the “flying beasties”, by the latter half of the story he’s sneaked onboard the Chameleon Tours aeroplane to try and find out what their missing passengers end up. His airsickness, and willingness to admit to it to “Crossland”, distinguishes between bravery and bravado however. One of the most impressive things about Jamie is that, for all that he is from a pre-technological era and constantly finds himself challenged by things he can’t comprehend, he is both intelligent and adaptable; he might not understand aeroplanes or ray guns, but he is quick to assess the dangers of whatever environment he finds himself in and copes easily with the increasingly bizarre or monstrous sights that he encounters whilst traveling with the Doctor. Having dealt with his confusion about having traveled to the moon during ‘The Moonbase’, he readily accepts space travel and maintains his calm once on board the Chameleon satellite, and he will continue to prove his resilience, dependability, and resourcefulness throughout his tenure in the series. One scene that also stands out in ‘The Faceless Ones’ is Jamie’s initial embarrassment when Samantha flirts with him; he later returns the favour by kissing her to distract her whilst he pinches her ticket, which is a nice touch. 

The Doctor is, as usual, on form here, with Troughton putting in a performance that manages to rise above the frequently lacklustre scripts. His intense intelligence in the last three episodes as he works out exactly what the Chameleons are doing and what his best chance of stopping them is, is impressive, and the final episode, as he buys time on board the Chameleon satellite, is the high point of the story; for all that the Director believes his intellect to be far greater than the Doctor’s, the Doctor’s almost palpable confidence in his plan, which of course hinges on the success of the airport staff and Samantha in finding the originals of Blade and the others on Earth, never lets the viewer doubt that he can easily defeat the Chameleons. As in ‘The Macra Terror’, he continues to exude confidence, albeit often disguised beneath his clowning, and again gives the impression that he is enjoying himself. The Doctor persuading the Chameleons to leave Earth is a pleasant change to the usual conclusion, which ultimately results in the death of the villains, although I can’t help wondering just how much his confidence that Blade will stick to his side of the bargain once he gets safely changed back into his raw state is justified. In fact I recall reading somewhere that Steve Lyons joked that the Chameleons probably waited for the Doctor to clear off and then started all over again at a different airport…

Overall, ‘The Faceless Ones’ is neither a classic nor a turkey, but merely an oddity, with forgettable villains, conspicuous padding, and a criminally understated departure for Ben and Polly, but which makes good use of both Jamie and the Doctor. Following on immediately after the superb ‘The Macra Terror’ probably makes it seem even less impressive, and it doesn’t help that, immediately following it, the very best is yet to come…

“At last, the future of Gallifrey is assured.”

I have a confession to make. The Deadly Assassin has been my favourite story from the moment it was broadcast, and when I was younger, the Sontarans were my favourite monsters. I thought The Invasion of Time was fantastic, and played the big gun battles at school. I’d been waiting for such a long time for a decent copy on tape, and was terribly excited when they finally released it. 

Watching it recently episode by episode, I realised the gulf from how I loved it as a kid to it scraping about five out of ten for me now. It seems to have suddenly fallen in my Who story ‘likes’ from about number 50 to, ooh, past number 100. Why? The story is much more traditional than The Deadly Assassin, and blatantly trying both to pull back from it and to be an epic to outmatch it. It ends up as a glittery and hollow pile of padding which doesn't have the force to carry off the 'Doctor turning bad' plot with which it begins, alternately entertaining and infuriating, then at the end dull – except for the Doctor *really* turning bad in a lazy way they don’t even notice. In short, it suffers from the curse of the sequel, and helps make Gallifrey dull for ever after.

OK, so that’s the short review. Now come with me, and I’ll take you through each episode, the highs and the lows, and spoilers abound… To start with the context, Season 15 is perhaps the most disappointing year Doctor Who ever produced, with nosediving production values not yet being salvaged by the Williams wit finding its feet. Almost every story ends with something being blown up; almost every set and costume looks cheap. You might call it ‘Boom and Bust’, or ‘The Year They Got Lazy’. There are worse seasons, certainly, but never have expectations built up by steadily rising standards of brilliance over the preceding three years been so cruelly dashed. Scripts and acting are falling back into familiar, obvious patterns; Leela is going downhill faster than any other companion. It just looks so flat, so dull, so slipshod – and Tom has gone off the rails in a way that he will avoid for most of the following, far superior year. 

Unfortunately, in many more ways than being the climax of the steadily increasing mentions of the Time Lords in every story, The Invasion of Time is an appropriate summation of Season 15. From the beginning of episode One, you can see the problems. K9 has now settled into his forever-after mix of C3PO and R2D2 (bitchy pedant meets cute little robot), with a big gun added on, and the Doctor is now relying on him to shoot things altogether too much. Added to this laziness, he gains every fan’s undying hatred when he demands the TARDIS speak, then retorts, “You are a very stupid machine.” Die, tin can, die! ;-)

The Vardans start well, with cool high-backed chairs and froody multi-squared computer screens. Unusually, it’s very clear that a fair while has gone by between Underworld and this story, for the Doctor to have laid all his Vardan plans. Oh, and for Leela to have got herself a giant frog to play with in the exploitation shots in the pool. Landing on Gallifrey is an immense relief – for the first time in the entire season, we have a set that looks grand and impressive, the more so when the Panopticon has clearly been redesigned (a bit) rather than broken out of storage. The ghastly plastic floor level blue and green chairs are a let-down, but generally it’s interesting and believable again.

Tom Baker is arrestingly abrupt as the Doctor declares himself – and rather worryingly, Andred immediately sides with him and starts ordering around the most senior Time Lords at gunpoint! I mean, it seems a rather gun-ready society, doesn’t it? Shame that Borusa’s best comeback line now is “Then let him rot in a black star,” or trying to lock him up – John Arnatt gives a great performance to disguise it, but, really, Borusa’s character is already suffering from poorer scripting and much poorer lines.

The ceremony at the end isn’t badly done, but suffers from having far fewer Time Lords milling around than last time… At least Borusa doesn’t put on his frock until it’s playtime, even if he does then utter the grisly error “Their *elected* President.” Call me a Deadly Assassin pedant, but the whole point of that story is that Goth, who would blatantly have won an election, wasn’t going to get the job because the President makes the choice instead of a popular vote – hence the need for a *deadly assassin* to trigger the unprecedented step of an election. Sigh. With this, the ‘Rod’ blatantly being the ‘Great Key’ from last time, albeit presented on a hideous inflatable cushion, the Supreme Council rather than the High Council, and the Great Key business with the Chancellor’s secret (so why did everyone think Goth would be President, if it’s an alternate career summit and they can’t become President? Admittedly, the ‘balance of power’ is quite nice, and perhaps the Matrix wipes the knowledge from Chancellors-turned-President, but couldn’t they write it down?) you wonder if only the designers watched Assassin, and the authors didn’t listen at all. Still, episode one has considerable style, and blessed relief in the production values department. Gomer and Savar even have a nice bit of banter in much the same way as the two old coves in the Assassin dressing room.

Part Two is much less interesting, and with so much padding on view, it’s clear that this story has nothing like the ideas of Assassin. Rather entertainingly, a very similar cliffhanger (white-clad President collapses on Panopticon dais) is followed by a similar resolution, with guards milling around and escorting the Doctor away, though this time it’s the cruder Borusa who’s trying to have him locked up, while the clever one complained about the crude Chancellor. Mind you, it’s still just about working as a character piece for the Doctor, and Tom is still remembering to act just enough to pull it off. It’s a nice touch that Leela is ordered to the enquiry by Borusa – having failed with the Doctor, he’s still looking for public scapegoats, and the alien’s a prime target (though he blatantly knows she didn’t do it, having switched his story from “The Matrix rejects the candidate!” to “She attacked him”). 

When the Doctor comes round and startles us by turning on Leela, the story is still firing on all cylinders (which is more than the guards’ stasers do. Half the time they have no effect at all, but occasionally they have a white ‘diamond’, as last time. It’s, er, almost as if they did it in a hurry and didn’t finish putting all the effects). However, the lead is already becoming erratic. “This is rather more than a student prank,” says Borusa, calling our attention to Tom’s increasingly studenty performance of late. He ranges from the sudden roars (“Get out! Get out! Get out!” he cries near the end) to the hammy overplayed scene where he’s trying to find Borusa’s voice print, and he’s no longer entirely convincing. The episode ending has a considerable power, though, despite the Vardans already looking like a bit of scrunched-up plastic…

Episode Three is full of political intrigue and the threat of the Vardans – but unfortunately it doesn’t come off. Kelner is too silly, Andred is too callow, and the Vardans simply don’t work. They move very badly and are too blatant a matte, even ignoring their unspectacular appearance. Kelner plots with his pet guard to take over as President *later*, but protect the Doctor until then; so when did the Castellan bump up, illegally and unratified by a president, to become a High – er, Supreme – Councillor? And a really high-ranking one at that? While Kelner plots risibly, last week’s instant fascist Andred now goes for instant, insipid resistance, and unfortunately enthuses no-one. 

Leela deciding to banish herself because the Doctor wanted her banished, and he always has a plan, is rather a nice touch – the faithless one from her first story has found a faith she can believe in. At least she’s given a bit more to do than her comedy part in the last episode, where lines like the stage-whispered “I’m with him,” or the ‘posh’ echo “One does,” made it almost impossible to believe she’s not an average Twentieth Century woman. “I can survive anywhere,” she declares, and runs smack into Nesbin and the Outsiders, a last chance for her character to reassert itself.

Meanwhile, Tom gets very smug (K9 suggested lots of people call him that an episode ago – but this is the first time he’s really looked it) when Borusa learns from him. For this alone, you could forgive Andred for planning his assassination, but as for appointing Kelner ‘acting Vice President’ (since when did the Time Lords have them? It’s a different structure entirely, surely, with the Chancellor as deputy)… Borusa is locked up (for the next episode!) after rather a great scene where he faces down the Vardans and is zapped by one. Again, you’re almost persuaded that this story could be great. Unfortunately, Andred’s assassination plot is a bit crap. His plotters are unconvincing, and seem more human than Time Lord - Gomer is an old Time Lord (claiming his 10th regeneration makes him less vigorous), played by an old man; Andred’s callow youths are played by young men. Old actors playing ‘young’ Time Lords would have shown more thought. Then Andred’s rallying cry of ‘In the name of liberty and honour’ is just so limply delivered that you want to scream.

Into the fourth episode, and as with all undramatic ‘Doctor about to be shot’ cliffhangers, we’re amazed that, um, he isn’t. The excuse this time is especially weedy - the Doctor has apparently set up K9’s Earth blaster so it fires inside TARDISes, while Gallifreyan stasers don’t. Convinced? The Doctor has some relatively good barbs to Andred about his ineffectual palace revolution (“What can you pull off?” indeed), but it’s getting more and more stretched, and constant balancing acts of Gallifrey’s ‘crown jewels’ on K9 were probably funny in the studio. Andred using a calculator so K9 can show off and do the sums faster looks, ah, rather dated now. And probably then.

On the other hand, the Vardans have a much better episode, even though they suddenly laugh unconvincingly and tell Kelner they’ve suspected the Doctor all along (just as their voiceovers at the beginning – er – disprove). The life-size Vardan talking to Kelner, with a minimum of movement, doesn’t look too bad – and the one sitting at Kelner’s chair is mildly entertaining. Of course, once they appear in their little soldier suits, they make the cardinal dramatic error of having the leader being by far the smallest and slightest of the three, and not much of an actor to boot, which rather undermines his authority as he stands there shouting. As the Doctor observes, “Disappointing, aren’t they?” At least one of the others is fairly cute…

The Doctor enters the Matrix to get some ideas on dismantling the Quantum Forcefield (doesn’t sound as cool as the Transduction Barriers, so we never hear of that again from anyone, huh?). He gets some nice shots on location with lots of mechanics and a Vardan, which is different padding from usual. The Outsiders run through the sandpit several times to build up tension for their approach, rather less successfully. Oh well, Leela had fun hamming it up with her target practice before her band of six go off to conquer New York (at least, we assume it’s a city of similar density, and a similarly implausible idea). Shame that she just gets to be the butt of the stupid “What does proficient mean?” joke instead, and that K9 is also reduced to ‘nodding dog’ comic relief. At this point, the episode seems to have been a bit of a letdown, without even an appearance from Borusa to cheer it.

But then there’s the gorgeously blobby electronic music underscoring *that* cliffhanger…

Yes, Episode Five starts with fantastic oomph, and it’s a pleasant surprise to find that it keeps moves along at a fair old lick, largely helped by the mix of waspish Chancellor Borusa and some cool fx gunfights for the kids. Yes, it’s more running around, but it’s less tedious with it. Borusa is certainly a big pull this time, talking to himself as he listens to the Doctor, then forming a great double act that pulls some acting out of Tom (and even Tom’s ‘alliteration’ quip to Stor is done with his old grimness). His placing of the Great Key *not* in a forest of them, but in his desk drawer, is fabulous – even if the whole Chancellor / Key thing is a bit silly. For some reason never specified we get the idea that the Sontarans cannot ‘conquer time’ “Not while I -“ – er, why? What does the Chancellor do with the Key that would stop them? And if it’s not been used for 10 million years…? At least we don’t get Terrance Dicks’ ‘a lesser Key was stolen by the Master’ line (yeah, right, like the Eye of Harmony’s not important). Perhaps the Chancellor must use it to ‘switch all the TARDISes on’ as part of his duties, but it’s not something the script bothers to justify.

OK, Stor’s asthmatic East End sound is a bit peculiar, and the eye-holes don’t look vacuum-safe, but the Sontarans are generally fairly effective (still constantly helmeted so far; strange we didn’t get that as the cliffhanger!). They also have three fingers again - and their gun effects, with blast fields shifting and wobbling around, definitely look much better than K9’s thin red line (which at one stage shoots a Sontarans in the groin, only to see it carry on. It’s difficult not to jump to the conclusion that they have no nadgers). Is this the first ‘K9’s magic blaster has no effect’ scene? Kelner oils over the Sontarans to a ludicrous extent immediately, but when required to do some technical work (largely on film!) for the Sontarans, suddenly becomes more confidently evil and an impressive expert, rather than a weaselly cipher. He says that taking over the defence systems is only possible using the TARDIS – “and the Doctor’s capsule is the only one operational,” oddly (unless the Great Key has switched them all off). Still, Part Five has been something of a success.

Oh dear.

In Episode Six, the wheels come off so fast they fly out of the screen at you.

Like Episode Five, this involves lots of running around and blatant padding, but it stands much less well as an episode on its own, and ends up even worse as a climax. The plot doesn’t have enough to go on for a third of the time, and it makes very little use of what there is. For a start, Part Five was largely enlivened by the Chancellor, but this time it’s ten minutes in before Borusa appears, and he has precious little screen time. Other characters fare worse. Leela is roundly humiliated. It’s really only the last couple of stories that her character has really collapsed, but collapsed it suddenly has. It starts with the “You got lost” / “How do you know?” comedy routine, then her kissing K9 (demob happy), and closes with her staying with Captain Dull of the Guard. Strewth. Kelner is back to cipher again, claiming “I’m not an engineer, sir,” which is a blatant lie considering his accomplishments in these last two episodes, and poor Rodan spends most of her time hypnotised!

The TARDIS interiors must be greeted with some sympathy, given their unfortunate background in industrial disputes, and don’t seem that bad, though occasionally poor (you sort of get used to it). Showing a ‘brick and pipes’ corridor leading straight out of the console room is a good touch, and the lounger area where Borusa relaxes with news of the Titanic and a blue drink through a curly straw with the potplants and giant roundels on the wall works surprisingly well. Going round and round the same large area is very tedious, however, as is Tom constantly ‘stumbling’ on the same point of the ramp in the corridor approaching it – and the jumps between film and video are very obvious. “I’m a Time Lord, not a painter and decorator,” cries the Doctor, “I’m preoccupied with Sontarans, Daleks and Cybermen.” When Tom acts up, we know the script is falling down. At least the ancillary power station is quite pretty.

I feel obliged to note that Stor has his trooper drag in a large gun-like beamer to burn through the blocking bar across the TARDIS internal door… And, wouldn’t you know? It works! It seems Gallifreyans are the only race in the universe who can’t build guns that fire inside their own ships. Stor has much bigger vacuum-unsafe eye holes – all the better to fail to convince you with – and mostly just stalks up and down brick corridors, glowering, taking his helmet off and putting it back on again for want of anything else to do. 

Again, Borusa is cool and entertaining, and manages good acting even in scenes like the ‘Doctor’s lost his memory’ one, with a slight smile, but there’s too little of him to disguise the paucity of everything else. How does he instantly recognise the Demat Gun (or even know to look for it)? It’s just a great big gun! The ultimate weapon (again), eh? “I could rule the Universe with this gun, Chancellor.” Oh, please. “It’ll throw us back to the darkest age,” cries Borusa, desperately trying to make us believe. Some have theorised that, as it’s powered by the Great Key, it’s either a Time Destructor or it erases your timeline (which erases the Doctor’s memory, but people in the TARDIS are shielded from changes in reality). Unfortunately, nothing we see on screen gives us more than ‘It’s a bigger, clumsier Ogron disintegrator.’ It’s just dull, and why on earth has he built it? It doesn’t serve a more interesting plot function than a pistol. Or a club. Or even a net. The Doctor catches up with Stor awfully quickly, then Stor threatens to explode a grenade (very slowly) – “You’ll destroy this entire galaxy,” pleads the Doctor. Er, why? How? Yes, I know a fan might work it out that it's because he's stood on top of the Eye of Harmony, but for 'average' viewers, that was explained briefly 18 months ago! It’s a very confused, very rushed (inexcusable after all the padding) and very poor conclusion. It’s rather sad that the whole thing is, again, resolved by the Doctor and a big gun. Particularly a big gun whose rather nice whiteout effect has no explanation behind it, and which the Doctor has – uniquely for the series so far – designed and planned with lots of alternative equipment to hand, rather than just finding or cobbling together in desperation.

So, by the end of it, the Doctor has built the (albeit unconvincing) ultimate weapon. And he uses it, unhesitatingly. And he doesn’t even resist the temptation not to *keep* using it – that decision is made for him by a handy deus ex machina. Do we ever see the Doctor more out of character until he blows up Skaro? In retrospect, we can perhaps see the whole plot and resolution of the Key to Time as a remake of The Invasion of Time, but getting it right. Yes, the wheels still fall off a bit in the last two stories, but at least the Doctor is recognisably Doctorish and not Rambo at the end!

The Doctor, of course, then handily loses his memory. So how did he know which TARDIS room to look for his friends in? Oh, and we’re to presume that, when Borusa took the Sash off the Doctor and the Doctor let him, that was the Doctor’s resignation as President, too! At least Arnatt is good enough for us to infer Borusa’s wiles when the script fails to fill them in. Incidentally, although the Doctor may have had his own memory wiped, Rodan built the key under unconscious hypnosis and instruction from… K9. So, the dog knows how to build one! And it’s staying with Borusa. Hmm… Then all we’re left with is the worst exit for a companion since Dodo.

So, in the end, The Invasion of Time is a disappointment. There are much worse stories, but most of those have much less promise to go so wrong. I’ve really got back into watching Who stories episodically again rather than all in a lump, but cutting up some stories episode by episode (as they were intended to be watched but with the deadly ability to dwell on the dodgy bits) is clearly a killer. Worse, it’s the end that lets it down most badly, as the Doctor’s behaviour is actually more worrying than at the beginning, but it hasn’t occurred to the production team that he’s other than ‘heroic’. I liked big guns and this story when I was six. It’s difficult to be as enthusiastic about them these days, when I’m not convinced either make very good Doctor Who.

Based on memories of it, I was expecting to write a scathing critique of ‘The Dominators’, but to my surprise, I actually found quite a lot to like about it. It is by no means a classic, and it is possible that part of my newfound enjoyment of it stems form watching the series in order, since this is the first complete surviving story since ‘The Tomb of Cybermen’; nevertheless it isn’t as bad as its reputation suggests.

First of all, I’ll address the considerable shortcomings of ‘The Dominators’. The main message of the story seems to be that it is often necessary to fight for what one believes in and indeed to survive in the face of enemy aggression; thus, we are presented with a race utterly opposed to aggression of all kinds, who suddenly find themselves under threat from a utterly implacable enemy that is determined to destroy them and their only hope of survival is to alter their pacifist stance and fight. To anyone who has seen ‘The Mutants’, this might sound familiar, but there are essential differences; the Thals were sufficiently well characterised that it was possible to care about their fate, and they were eventually persuaded of the need to fight back against the Daleks by Ian. The Dulcians on the other hand are the single most tedious alien race yet seen in Doctor Who, even taking into account the Xerons. With the exception of Cully, who I’ll come back to, they are atrociously characterised and indeed acted, especially Kando and Teel. Balan’s apparent refusal to accept that the Dominators won’t just go away and leave them alone makes him seem, frankly, feeble-minded and at best stupid. The council are even worse, the absolute low point being Tensa’s pompous insistence that Rago, an obviously threatening psychopath equipped with a bizarre looking but extremely dangerous robot, addresses Senex in a respectful manner; frankly, I welcomed his death with a kind of twisted glee, hoping that it would incite the Dulcians to action, despite having seen ‘The Dominators’ before and knowing that, in fact, they just end up concluding that they’ll have to let the Dominators blow up their planet. The Thals’ initial stoic refusal to fight in the face of over-whelming common sense seemed somehow noble thanks to decent scripting, but the Dulcians just seen dimwitted. Part of the problem is the way that the council members are betrayed as pompous windbags, continuously bickering amongst themselves with a kind of relaxed smugness, which gives the probably unintentional message to the viewer that pacifism leads to bureaucracy; this is possibly true, but it hardly seems to be the point. The one exception to the Dulcian rule is Cully, who is well acted and well scripted, except for the fact that Haisman and Lincoln muddy the waters by also seemingly trying to crowbar in a half-arsed message about crying wolf. Which in the long run is pointless, since when the council is convinced that he is telling the truth, they still don’t do anything about it anyway.

Production wise, the Dulcians continue to suffer. The Island of Death is clearly meant to look like a quarry, so I can forgive it, but the council chamber set is almost terminally uninteresting, which is appropriate but only adds to the overall tedium. The costumes worn by the Dulcians need to be seen to be believed and don’t help matters; they look utterly absurd and not in an interesting Thal trousers sort of way, but in a quick-sewing-job-with-some-spare-curtains kind of way. Poor Wendy Padbury ends up looking like an overgrown schoolgirl whose mother couldn’t afford a uniform for her and had to make one for her herself, whilst struggling with arthritis and poor vision. The model work is also crap, most notably the B-movie style travel capsules, Cully’s beehive-shaped hovercraft, and the Dominators’ spaceship. Consequently, much of ‘The Dominators’ is dull to look at, and this coupled with the fact that any scene featuring just Dulcians (Cully aside) feels padded regardless of its length, does not make a recipe for success. 

In spite of all this monotony however, there is much to enjoy in ‘The Dominators’. Some of the design work is quite good; the hexagonal block design of the weapons museum is rather effective, and the survey unit model also works well. The interior of the Dominators’ ship is suitably futuristic, and there are some very impressive explosions throughout. Cast wise, the regulars really shine here, showcasing the new TARDIS crew very well. Troughton was reputedly bored with the recurring base-under-siege plot prevalent in Season Five, and seems to relish the opportunity to do something different here. The highlight is episode two, when he pretends to be an idiot so that the Dominators underestimate him; uniquely, the villains here never actually realize who their principle enemy is, blaming the attacks on the Quarks on the Dulcians and of course Jamie. Troughton looks like he is enjoying himself throughout the story, and puts in one of his most frantic and enthusiastic performances to date. He also conveys well the fact that the Doctor is forced to think on his feet from the moment he meets the Dominators, since he dare not admit that he has been feigning stupidity; his claim that the “clever ones” built the laser gun seems very desperate, but pays off to the Doctor’s obvious relief. He is also frantic with nervousness in the final episode, as the Dulcians and Zoe try to bore a tunnel from the atomic shelter to the Dominator’s central bore to intercept the explosive device and thus save Dulkis. His cheerful and carefree dismantling of the capsule’s controls whilst in mid-flight is another highlight, as is the final scene, when he wears a satisfied smile on his face as the Dominator spaceship blows up, only to be brought up short as he realises that he is in the path of a lava flow. 

Jamie gets plenty to do here, thanks largely to the apathy of most of the Dulcians, and his grim satisfaction as he and Cully systematically hunt Quarks in episode five is superbly conveyed. He also provides the perfect contrast to the Dulcians, since he is a born fighter. Zoe too fares well here, living up to the promise she showed in her flawed debut story. Unlike Victoria, she is not easily intimidated, and never seems cowed by Toba’s bullying; she also gamely joins Cully in inciting rebellion and generally seems to be enjoying herself despite the dangers. In short, because of the vast failings of the Dulcian characters, the TARDIS crew as a whole is more crucial to the resolution of the plot than in many stories in Doctor Who up until this point. 

The Quarks are probably a bone of contention, since I get the impression that fans either love them or hate them. I think they’re great, their bizarre and diminutive appearance and weird, childlike voices contrasting with their actually quite impressive destructive capabilities in the story to make them a much more novel and impressive threat than, say, the War Machines. I like the details of their design, for example their weird spiky heads and the fact that their arms fold neatly away. In this regard, they actually look like they have been designed with practicality in mind rather than to frighten children in the audience, and their size helps to avoid making them looking like men in funny costumes. The effects used to show the deaths of their victims also help to add to their menace, both the elaborate “burning” effect in episode one, and the smoking corpse effect used later. However, the real saving grace of ‘The Dominators’ is, for me, the eponymous aliens themselves.

Rago and Toba have been criticized by some fans for being nothing more than argumentative bullies, about whom we learn next to nothing, and this is in fact true. But they are so well acted, and so well scripted, that this doesn’t matter because they actually feel really dangerous. They are both psychotic, both giving the impression that they are about to erupt and kill someone nearby, which is in fact the case on several occasions. Toba, excellently acted by Kenneth Ives, is extremely sadistic, and is scary because he’ll kill for fun; he’s also in a sense stupid, since he endangers their mission by wasting the Quarks’ dwindling energy supplies by destroying things simply because he can, which makes him the focus of his superior’s rage on several occasions. The acting is the icing on the cake; every time anyone shows signs of rebellion, or attacks a Quark, his initial outrage gives way to an expression of murderous glee, as it gives him an excuse to kill somebody. When he supervises the clearance of the central drilling site to test the slaves to exhaustion, he explains what they must do with relish. In short, Ives’ performance drips with cruelty. Ronald Allen however, is even better as Rago. Rago is truly scary, whether he has an air of calm, detached ruthlessness, or suppressed fury as he deals with Toba’s wasteful need to fulfill his baser desires. Whilst he frequently orders Toba not to kill the TARDIS crew or the Dulcians, there is never any doubt that he is doing so out of compassion; he is focused entirely on achieving his mission and will not risk wasting energy on unnecessary slaughter. Allen’s facial acting is astounding, his eyes twitching manically, and an occasional cruel half-smile breaking his otherwise cold granite expression. Whilst he is less overtly sadistic than Toba, his dispassionate callousness has a clinical horror all its own, most effectively when he is examining Jamie like a sample on a microscope in episode two. His quiet, clipped tones, only rising to a shout in his final scene as he sees the seed device on board the spaceship and bellows “obey!” at Toba are equally menacing; there is no gloating when he kills Tensa; only a matter of fact certainty that he will kill other council members if he feels that is necessary. The louder Toba, less in control of his emotions, is never as intimidating as Rago; it seems initially that he might rebel and take over from his superior, but when he tries, it is quickly made clear who the more dangerous of the two is and he is rapidly cowed and humiliated. Oh, and their simply costumes are effective too. It is true that we learn little about the Dominators, but the fact that remains that whenever they are on screen, I at least do not find the story dull.

In short then, ‘The Dominators’ is a weak season opener, but not as bad as some fans would have you believe.

At this point in Doctor Who’s history, ‘The Daleks’ Master Plan’ is the longest story to date, and ‘The War Games’ almost rivals it at only two episodes shorter. ‘The Daleks’ Master Plan’ is in my opinion a true classic and maintains interest throughout its considerable length by switching locations and bringing in new characters throughout. ‘The War Games’ on the other hand limits itself to (for the first nine episodes) a single planet, albeit featuring different time zones and locations, and a relatively consistent cast. I would not describe ‘The War Games’ as a classic and it certainly isn’t the same league as ‘The Daleks’ Master Plan’, but it nevertheless manages to maintain an interesting narrative as it builds slowly towards an unforgettable climax. 

The basic premise of ‘The War Games’ is slightly strange, but essentially it works; the Aliens (who are never referred to as anything else) bring large numbers of humans from out of Earth’s history and by a process of survival of the fittest, attempt to whittle them down to an elite fighting force, with which they intend to conquer the galaxy. It’s not entirely plausible, and I can’t help wondering why, if so many of the humans are so disposable anyway, they don’t just brainwash the lot and send them into battle, but it makes for a surprisingly engaging story. The various wartime eras are quite well presented, with generally good sets and costumes, something the BBC has a reputation for. The large cast is generally good, with one or two exceptions that I’ll come to shortly, and despite the length of the story it manages to avoid feeling padded, with the possible exception of the Private Moore scenes, which is a very trivial criticism. This is in spite of the large number of escapes and recaptures throughout, as the Doctor and his friends variously get captured by Smythe’s men, escape, get recaptured, escape again with Carstairs and Lady Jennifer, get split up, arrive at the Aliens’ base, get captured, escape again, meet up with Jamie again, get captured again, etc etc etc. Because each escape and capture results in a progression of the plot, this never actually seems repetitive; for example their initial capture and subsequent court-martial arose the Doctor’s suspicions that all is not what it seems, and his subsequent escape into an entirely different war obviously serves to confirm this. 

Once the truth of the situation begins to emerge, the pace quickens even more, as the action shifts to the Alien base and also the resistance forces enter the fray. It is here that my first major criticism of the story arises. In the 1917 zone, when Lieutenant Lucke sees a demonstration of the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver, he is very quick to accept that the Doctor has been telling the truth. Now I realize that the irony of my argument is that the Doctor is telling the truth, I just think that Lucke accepts it too easily; after all, in his position, I would assume that the Doctor is an amateur magician before I’d believe that he is an alien. And this is my problem; many of the human characters seem to accept what is really going on very easily. I can just about convince myself that this is because the processing is flawed and that they are already subconsciously realize that something is wrong, but it still never quite seems convincing. Fortunately, after the first four episodes, this distracting trivial issue becomes irrelevant. Once events move to the Aliens’ base, two things of significance happen; firstly, we start to get satisfying answers to the mounting questions, coupled with the political wrangling between the War Chief and the Security Chief; this not only advances the plot, but also adds new intrigue, as it becomes clear that all is not well amongst the ranks of the villains. Secondly, and most importantly, we get that almost shocking moment when the Doctor’s and the war Chief’s eyes meet, and a clear flash of recognition passes between them. This signposts the start of the increasing tension evident in the Doctor as he starts to realize that he is facing a problem that he cannot solve alone, and that his only recourse will be to ask his own people for help. 

This unfolding and massively important subplot is partially dependent for its success on Edward Brayshaw’s excellent portrayal of the War Chief. We have seen the Doctor face a renegade member of his own race before, in ‘The Time Meddler’ and ‘The Daleks’ Master Plan’, but there the emphasis was more on humour. Here, the full significance of what this can mean for the Doctor comes to light; he is clearly terrified when he sees the War Chief, presumably suspecting that, since the Aliens’ SIDRATs are based on TARDIS technology, his own people are rather involved. He visibly calms down in later episodes as he realises that the War Chief is a lone renegade helping the War Lord’s people, but this relief is short-lived once he finally accepts that he needs help to get everybody home. The Doctor’s conversations with the War Chief are fascinating; they clearly know each other, and both discuss their decisions to leave their own world. For the first time in the series entire history we start to learn about the Doctor’s past, and I’ve never found it so captivating as I have whilst watching the series in order. The revelation that the Doctor stole his TARDIS is surprising enough in itself, but this is as nothing compared to the sheer terror that he and the War Chief exhibit as the need to summon the Time Lords becomes clear. Time Lords. It’s so easy to take for granted now that the Doctor is a Time Lord, but hearing the War Chief use the phrase for the first time also has enormous impact; for the first time, we learn what the Doctor really is, and it sounds impressive, mysterious, and foreboding. It is to the Doctor’s credit that in spite of his obvious fear (he is even prepared to let Villar shoot him rather than staying to wait for his own people), he summons help for the sake of the humans present. In contrast, the War Chief is just terrified and bolts as soon as the Doctor assembles his communication cube. Brayshaw imbues his performance with tremendous charisma and energy, and his own barely controlled panic is almost as impressive as the Doctor’s far more openly fraught anxiety.

The War Chief is a great villain. He looks and sounds impressive (yes, even with those sideburns) and is a commanding figure. During the middle of the story, his rivalry with the Security Chief makes him seem like a man in control, easily manipulating a petty and rather stupid subordinate. This is doubly fortunate, given that James Bree provides one of the most diabolically bad performances of any actor in Doctor Who up until, this point. The Security Chief seems to be heavily inspired by Gestapo officers, but just seems constipated for the most part. Nevertheless, Brayshaw’s commanding performance counter-balances this acting atrocity, much to the overall benefit of the story. What is more interesting however, is how the War Chief behaves once the War Lord arrives. Suddenly, he is not as in control as he would like people around to believe, he is just another subordinate and one perhaps out of his death. The War Lord’s withering scorn shows no favouritism for either War Chief or Security Chief, belittling both as and when necessary. From the moment that the War Chief explains his intention to take complete control to the Doctor, there is a sudden feeling that he is woefully out of his depth, and his death at the ends of the War Lord’s guards has a certain inevitability. Philip Madok’s second performance of the season is even better than his first; the ruthless, sneering War Lord is so distinct from the oleaginous Eelek in ‘The Krotons’ that it is easy to forget that they are played by the same actor. If the War Chief is a commanding villain, the War Lord makes him look like a sniveling worm, so utterly cold and compassionless is he. His beaming smile, as he listens to the Doctor’s transparent flattery, is terrifying. 

There is almost the effect of a “food chain” in ‘The War Games’, with a “bigger fish” always around the corner. The Security Chief is a nasty little man, but is outranked by the far more impressive War Chief. He in turn seems far less impressive next to the War Lord. And at the top of the chain are the Time Lords. Knowing in retrospect how the Time Lords change throughout the series, it is interesting to see how they are handled here. The Doctor talks of their great power, and they are portrayed as powerful and mysterious, easily sending the captured humans home and dealing with the War Lord, despite his ill-fated escape attempt. Despite their aloofness however, they also seem compassionate; they talk of not wanting to inflict pain, of not wanting innocents to be hurt, and the Time Lord who collects Jamie and Zoe seems genuinely touched by their attachment to the Doctor. On the other hand, they are also willing to mete out justice as they see fit; they not only dematerialize the War Lord, they also effectively kill off one of the Doctor’s lives. Perhaps the best comparison is that of strict parents; the Doctor, cowed and guilty looking, seems almost like a naughty schoolboy in episode ten, next to the Time Lords who place him on trial; they grow patiently listen to his defense and indeed seem to accept it, but they refuse to indulge him when he takes time to choose a new appearance, quickly deciding to choose one for him. And then there is what they do to Jamie and Zoe. 

My major criticism of ‘The War Games’ is the fate of the Doctor’s companions. From a story point of view, I can appreciate it, but as a viewer I feel cheated. In ‘The Wheel in Space’, Zoe was precocious and irritating, but during her travels with the Doctor her character developed dramatically and she became a likeable companion, clearly enjoying her travels. Suddenly, at the end of ‘The War Games’, all of that is effectively undone, as she is returned to her own time and her memory of her travels with the Doctor erased. With Jamie it is even more painful, since he’s been with the Doctor for even longer and has undergone even greater development, becoming one of the Doctor’s most enduring companions. It is almost painful to see all of that taken away, and whilst I realize that this is the point, it is still all too infuriating. At least both Wendy Padbury and Frazer Hines get plenty to do in their final story, after being wasted in ‘The Space Pirates’; both Zoe and Jamie play important roles in defeating the Aliens, and at least they get a truly touching final scene with the Doctor as they say goodbye.

Troughton’s final performance is better than ever. He gets some great comic moments early on, especially when he bluffs his way into the military prison in search of Jamie, and later gets to display an even greater range, as he angrily confronts the War Chief over his role in the war games, and becomes increasingly nervous and afraid as he realizes what must be done. He is quite superb in the last two episodes, seeming almost on the verge of tears as he sends the box to the Time Lords and frantically makes his escape. His explanation of his past in episode ten is probably my favourite moment from the entire story, as he explains that the wanted to explore time and space and so fled his own planet. It is an unforgettable moment in the series’ history. It is also quite shocking to see the Doctor resigned to his fate in episode ten, as he finally convinces Jamie and Zoe that there is no escape. He becomes his old self again in the trial room as sentence is passed, but of course, for the last time…

Production wise, ‘The War Games’ is generally very good. The minimalist sets of the Alien base work surprisingly well, as do the gimp costumes worn by the guards. The strange cardboard spectacles however, look utterly ridiculous. My other big criticism of ‘The War Games’ is the incidental score, which is pompous and overblown. This is appropriate in episode ten, but for the rest of the story is monumentally irritating, especially the annoying “sinister” theme that kicks in intrusively whenever an Alien dons a pair of special glasses. I’m quite capable of realizing that something strange is going on, without unsubtle musical cues hammering the point home every single time. 

There are other things about ‘The War Games’ that annoy me too; there are, inevitably, some very stereotypical characters on display, most notably Arturo Villar. I also never cease to find it unintentionally hilarious when von Weich first appears, complete with bald head, monocle, and dueling scar. Possibly the aliens have been watching Blackadder Goes Forth… Overall, there are too many shortcomings of ‘The War Games’ to allow it be considered a classic in my eyes, but there aren’t enough for it be considered a turkey either. Considering its length, and the unforgettable final episode, I think it achieves its aims very well. 

Overall, Season Six is not up to the quality of Season Five, but is generally strong and in some respects shows Troughton at his best. The ending of ‘The War Games’ heralds massive change. I noted when I reviewed ‘The Tenth Planet’ that whilst watching the series in order for the first time I felt a real emotional impact when Hartnell left. Having got just as used to Troughton, I felt the same effect, but the change is even more pronounced. Not only is this goodbye to Patrick Troughton, but also it’s goodbye to the black and white era, and signifies an enormous change in the style of the show. Doctor Who would never be the same again…

I absolutely love ‘The Krotons’, but I’m not one hundred percent certain as to why. The design and production are mediocre at best; the Krotons themselves look great from the waist up, but when the camera moves back too far their silly rubber skirts are all too visible. The interior of the Dynatrope is rubbish, although the hexagonal doors in and out both look quite good, as do the sets of the Gonds’ buildings. The model work is dire; the Gonds’ village looks atrocious, and the Dynatrope model is passable but, as The Television Companion points out, the perspective shown of it in no way matches the sets and is impossible to see from where the characters who point at it in episode four are standing. Notoriously, the first shot is of a hatch refusing to open properly. 

In spite of all these shortcomings, ‘The Krotons’ is hugely entertaining. The crystalline Krotons, with their Brummie accents, make for novel monsters, and seem rather alien in comparison with some of the series’ more humanoid monsters. This is not just because of their appearance, but also because their alien nature is emphasized by the by script; for example, they talk of exhausting rather than dying. These little details add up to an intriguing whole. In addition, they have a major weakness, exploited by the Doctor, in their dependence on their nutrient tank. They are also blind. Most Doctor Who monsters have an exploitable weakness, most notably the Cybermen and the Ice Warriors, but very rarely are they approached in such a matter-of-fact way, with the monsters in questions visibly compensating for them. 

The Gonds are potentially as dull as the Dulcians and seem to consist entirely of one small village, raising the question of how sparsely populated the planet as a whole is. Nevertheless, they work far better than the Dulcians, thanks to Robert Holmes’ trademark gift for characterisation. Vana and the slightly wooden Selris both serve their purpose well enough, but stealing the show are Beta, Eelek, and Thara. As Thara, Gilbert Wynne manages to portray an angry young man whilst still managing to make the character likeable, in large part because he talks a great deal of sense and is quite right to be suspicious of the fate of the companions of the Krotons from the beginning. James Cairncross, in his second Doctor Who role (his first was in ‘The Reign of Terror’) is highly entertaining as the obstreperous scientist Beta who relishes the chance to play with acids (incidentally, having received a sulphuric acid burn myself in the past, I would strongly advise against sticking a finger into it to see if it is ready!). Most memorably, Phillip Madok in his first role in the series plays the odious Eelek to perfection, presenting a truly loathsome character. 

The regulars do just as well out of the script. The ever-resourceful Jamie fends for himself against the Krotons whilst in the Dynatrope, and proves once again that whilst uneducated, he is not stupid, as he works out how to use the Doctor’s piece of mica to escape. For a change, Zoe gets to team up with the Doctor more than Jamie, resulting in some sparkling dialogue during the scenes with the learning machines. Troughton’s clowning here is, as usual, delightful and the entire scene is a hidden gem in the story. Even the TARDIS gets to show off a new trick, as the HADS make its sole appearance in the series. 

In short, ‘The Krotons’ is just plain good fun. At a mere four episodes, it is also makes for a refreshing change amongst the longer stories surrounding it. Frankly, it simply manages to be more than the sum of its parts.