It is ironic that one of the few Patrick Troughton stories to exist in its entirety, The War Games, could actually do with being trimmed down an episode or two. An excellent story but, alas, a tad long with many gratuitous scenes that could be cut. As long as all the scenes with the chillingly malicious General Smythe, the dry Von Weich, pompous Security Chief, charismatic War Chief and, most of all, the sneering, soft-spoken War Lord, could all be retained. Cut out some of the escape/getting recaptured scenes perhaps?

This story has always had a fascination for me. I was actually born on the year it came out (1968) so the first I knew of it was when the target book by Malcolm Hulke came out in...oh dear. 1981? Normally I had no interest in Dr Who books other than the ones being televised at that time, but what I knew about this story had an increasing fascination for me. It wasn't a typical DW story by any means, something apparently was to happen to the second Doctor by the end of the book to make him regenerate, the time lords were to be involved for the first time ever...my curiosity so got the better of me that I bought the novel and was thoroughly captivated. Malcolm Hulke's dialogue was as sharp as ever, yet there is absolutely no description at all of the War Lord. He just appears two thirds into the book. My young mind pictured him as a tall, dramatic figure in long, flowing robes! Imagine then some months later in a DW magazine there is a photo of the character...I was flabbergasted! This short, dapper figure with the beard, thick glasses and high forehead: this was the War Lord? And yet this character who seldom spoke above a murmur even when threatening someone with death is easily the most evil 'human' villain in DW's history.

Which point brings me to the video, seen years later. These aliens with their war games are evil and without compassion, excellent baddies, but to look at they are middle aged, balding, short, bespectacled...utterly unremarkable, but this is all the more chilling. Evil is not just looking like an Ice Warrior, a Cyberman or even a Dominator...the alien race in the War Games have the evil in their souls.

The plot was easy for my young mind to grasp also, being fairly simplistic in concept unlike, say, Logopolis which at the time I confess to being baffled about plotwise until the book came out several years later. The War Games is highly dramatic, not least of all for the shock ending. The little Doctor and his companions for once do not win through at the end, and its all the more shocking because right till the end one is rooting for them, thinking they might make it. And as for Jamie and Zoe...was there ever a more poignant scene than the one at the end when they are forced to depart due to the time lords' intervention?

On a lighter note, fans of Blackadder Goes Forth will see very definite similarities between that and episodes 1-3 of the War Games.....the chвteau, the trenches, the captain, the general, the adjutant with his form obsession....I guess Ben Elton was a DW fan as a child.

Absolutely brilliant. 10 out of 10!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

‘The Ice Warriors’ is a story with which I am surprisingly unfamiliar, due purely to its archive status; whilst I obtained bootleg recordings of many missing episodes some years ago, including most of Season Five, I only had audio recordings of the two missing episodes of ‘The Ice Warriors’ and only saw the surviving episodes when they were released on video fairly recently. I’d read the novelisation a couple of times in the past, but however good some of them are they are rarely an adequate substitute. This may be why I love ‘The Ice Warriors’ so much; it was unseen Troughton and having reached it during my ongoing series-watching odyssey, I was watching it for only the second time. In terms of availability, it rivals ‘The Tomb of the Cybermen’ for my affections, since two-thirds of it are happily in existence in their original form, allowing us an all-too infrequent chance to experience Troughton’s performance as the Doctor complete with facial expressions. More importantly, in terms of plot, acting and production, it more than holds its own.

‘The Ice Warriors’ benefits from excellent production values. The snow-bound sets are extremely convincing and seldom look artificial, unlike the similar sets in ‘The Tenth Planet’; the ice cliffs and the various blocks that fall whenever the glacier advances manage to avoid looking like polystyrene. The scenes in which Penley hauls Jamie across the ice are well done and look like they are actually shot outside; the footage of the Bear helps to create this illusion. The Ice Base also looks effective, probably because it has been built within a converted mansion, and the BBC have always been good at period set pieces; in addition, the juxtaposition of the advanced technology of the ioniser controls and the wood-paneled wall is rather memorable. The only slightly disappointing set is the interior of the Ice Warrior spaceship, which is minimalist to the point of being dull although I probably wouldn’t have noticed so much if it weren’t for the recent impressive sets of the Dalek city on Skaro (‘The Evil of the Daleks’) and the Cybertombs on Telos (‘The Tomb of the Cybermen’). Such are the bizarre side effects of watching the series in broadcast order… The costumes of the guest cast are also effective; I’ll discuss the Warriors themselves below, but it’s worth mentioning that the futuristic costumes worn by the base personnel, although clearly products of the sixties, manage not to look absurd, which is of course not always the case with humans from the future in the series. In addition, Penley and Storr look authentically scruffy. I also feel that the unusual opening sequences of each episode are of note.

The chilling unearthly wailing of the incidental score over shots of icy tundra nicely sets the tone at the start of each episode. 

The Ice Warriors themselves are hugely impressive. The costumes are distinctive and memorable, and the use of large actors coupled with this makes them physically imposing. I gather that Brian Hayles’s description of them in his script was vaguely similar to that of the Cybermen, but the decision to make them reptilian instead was a good one. Their bulbous armoured torsos, clamp-like hands and the copious tufts of hair at their joints combine to achieve a great visual effect. The fact that they are essentially armour plated also avoids the need for entirely flexible rubber costumes for the actors, which seldom look entirely convincing, since they tend to obviously crease at the joints. The Warriors also look and sound convincingly alien and this is helped considerably by the make-up around the actors mouths; Terrance Dicks’ stock description for Ice Warrior mouths in his novelisations of ‘The Seeds of Death’ and ‘The Monster of Peladon’ is “lipless slit”, and here it is certainly true. In close up, Varga’s mouth has no definition, it is simply a lopsided gash in his face, which is strangely disturbing and makes him seem truly non-human. 

In terms of characterisation, the Ice Warriors are made sufficiently distinct, despite the fact that only Varga and Zondall have many lines. It has become common to criticize Season Five for using the same basic “base-under-siege” plotline, and whilst this is to an extent true, it is also slightly unfair. So far this season, ‘The Abominable Snowmen’ is one such story whilst ‘The Tomb of the Cybermen’ is not really. I’ll discuss the recurrence of this plot type again when I get to other such stories, but for now I simply want to contrast ‘The Ice Warriors’ with its immediate predecessor. In ‘The Abominable Snowmen’, the base in question is Det-Sen monastery. It is indeed under siege from a powerful threat that is already establishing itself outside by the time the Doctor arrives, is motivated entirely by a desire for conquest, and secretly lurks within the base itself. In ‘The Ice Warriors’, the base is the Ice Base (the name is a real giveaway), and it is under siege, but primarily from the glacier. The Ice Warriors themselves have very different motivations from the Great Intelligence, and it is this that, for me, makes this story distinct, rather than just another base-under-siege story. The Ice Warriors are desperate; their ship is trapped in ice and needs power, there are only a handful of them, and they need to survive. True, Varga talks of conquering Earth if returning to Mars is not a viable option, but his immediate priority is to save his warriors and his ship. Only once, in episode five, do they actually attack the base, and this is in an attempt to obtain mercury isotopes for their reactor. For the most part, the threat they represent to the base is the danger of their reactor exploding if the ioniser is used at full strength, and the threat of the glaciers if the ioniser is consequently not used. It is worth noting of course, that although survival is the motivation, they are hardly sympathetic, and it is this more than their appearance that casts them as “monsters”. Varga is not only ruthless, but also a bully; he seems to take grim satisfaction in picking on Victoria especially, and his brutal, out-of-hand slaying of Storr is utterly callous. Storr presents no threat to the Ice Warriors; he is merely of no use to them. Zondall is even worse than his leader, and is positively sadistic, most notably when he tells Victoria that she will have cause to cry when Varga returns. This then, is why I think that the Ice Warriors work so well as monsters in this story; they look great, they have a logical motivation, and they are decidedly villainous. 

The Ice Warriors are not the sole reason for the success of this story however; the rest of the guest cast is uniformly excellent. Worthy of particular note are Peter Barkworth as Clent, and Peter Sallis as Penley. Clent is a superb character and very well acted. Another criticism of the Troughton era is that it is filled with unstable base commanders; in fact, I can only think of two and they are Robson (‘Fury From the Deep’) and Jarvis Bennett (‘The Wheel in Space’). Hobson (‘The Moonbase’) hardly qualifies as unstable, and neither I submit, does Clent. It is established in episode one that he hasn’t slept for nearly two days, and throughout the story he is placed under tremendous strain, the entire safety of human civilization literally in his hands, since the success of the ionization programme overall depends on every single base. Moreover, the only solutions which either the Doctor or Penley can come up with (and which eventually work) contradict the orders of World Control, who he is let us remember supposed to obey. In fact, the worst that Clent does is near the verge of panic in episode six; aside from that he is tense and irritable, but understandably so. In addition, he listens to reason; although he finds dealing with Penley especially difficult, he is won over by the Doctor’s arguments several times and it is worth noting that in episode five he realises, despite the objections of Miss Garrett, that the computer cannot help them with the situation they face. Ultimately, he allows Penley to use the ioniser at full strength in episode six, take the risk of destroying them all, and ultimately save the base from both the Ice Warriors and the glacier. He’s proud, arrogant, stubborn and bad-tempered, and spends the entire story under enormous stress, but I don’t agree that he’s unstable. And his finest moment is when he apologizes to Penley at the end. 

Peter Sallis puts in an impressive performance as Penley. He is of course crucial to the story because he represents the rebellious side of human nature; he is basically a decent human being and an excellent scientist, but he abandons the Ice Base because when he can no longer cope with the authority and regulations represented by Clent. He is also a likeable and sympathetic character, having formed a friendship with the otherwise scientist-hating Storr and also easily befriending both Jamie and the Doctor, the latter of whom is in many ways a kindred spirit. He is motivated largely by conscience; he helps Jamie because he is wounded, despite Storr’s protestations at bringing a stranger back to the cave, and he helps against the Ice Warriors because he has seen that they are killers. This presents him with a problem; by abandoning the base, which is in desperate need of his expertise, he not only leaves the base personnel at the mercy of the glaciers, but also threatens the entire world programme. Even when Miss Garrett tries to convince him to return to the base by reminding him of this, his aversion to Clent’s authority prevents him from agreeing, although his suggestion that the Doctor should use his notes on the Omega Factor allows him to solve all the problems of actually running the ioniser. Eventually, he is drawn into the plight of the base and plays a key role in the story’s denouement; which Clent and Miss Garrett unable to make a decision in the absence of advice from the computer, it is Penley who makes it for them, takes a risk and activates the ioniser, melting the glaciers and destroying the Ice Warriors. 

It is occasionally suggested that ‘The Ice Warriors’ carries an anti-science message; it doesn’t. It does admittedly promote a cautionary attitude; the current ice age has been caused by the use of science to remove carbon dioxide from the atmosphere and humanity is dependent on science to try and reverse the process. But what Hayles’ primary message is that of the importance of individuality, and thus it is the disaffected Penley who is portrayed as the most sympathetic character, refusing to blindly obey rules and regulations and determined not to be governed by machines. Nevertheless, Penley remains a scientist. The Doctor is also used to warn of the dangers of being enslaved by computers, as in episode one when Miss Garrett tells him that the base is computer controlled and he relies “well, never mind”. However, one character alone makes it plain that this message is distinct from an unspecific anti-science message, and this character is Storr. Storr is a complete technophobe and he is not presented in a flattering light; his attitude to science manifests itself as an almost superstitious fear and in short Hayles’ portrays him as a fool. He strides confidently to his death, because he knows that the Ice Warriors killed Arden, a scientist, and therefore assumes that they are against scientists, even though he knows that they are extra-terrestrial and have a spaceship, a product of scientific technology. 

Finally, the regulars are as always on fine form. Jamie fulfills the same role as he usually does, but as usual he does it well. The scene at the end of episode one when he slyly asks Victoria if she could imagine herself in one of the base personnel’s skin-tight apparently PVC uniforms suggests that even if she can’t he can, and is an amusing bit of character interaction. For much of the story he is usual brave and resourceful self, although his temporary paralysis results in him being largely sidelined during the latter half of the story. Troughton as always really steals the show, and displays marvellous range; with so much of ‘The Ice Warriors’ surviving, we are lucky enough to be able to see the look on his face when Varga depressurizes the airlock at the end of episode four, when he struggles unsuccessfully to unstopper the vial of ammonium sulphides in episode five, and at numerous other times, which inevitably serves to enhance the Second Doctor’s considerable charm, strong enough anyway to survive on audio alone. And then there’s Victoria. I noted when I reviewed ‘The Abominable Snowmen’ that it gave the first hint that the novelty of travelling in the TARDIS was starting to wear off, and this continues here. Victoria is her usual excited and inquisitive self when the TARDIS materialises in episode one, and she also demonstrates her bravery again, as even Varga admits when she uses his communicator to contact the base, but she spends three episodes here absolutely terrified. Taken hostage and bullied by Varga and later trapped by the grip of a dead warrior in an unstable icy tunnel, she is constantly on the verge of tears, frightened for her own safety and also wracked with anguish over Jamie’s possible death. When the Doctor joins her at the ship, she clearly draws a great deal of strength and comfort from him, recovers quickly and helps him overcome Zondall and thus defeat Varga, but it is nevertheless interesting to take heed of the increased strain that her travels with the Doctor and Jamie place her under…

In summary then, ‘The Ice Warriors’ continues to maintain the high quality of Season Five and provides an impressive introduction for one the series’ most popular monsters.

It is often pointed out that ‘The Enemy of the World’ is something of an oddity, possessing an entirely different feel to the other stories in Season Five, and this is certainly true. This is by no means a bad thing however, in a season that some fans consider to be repetitive and formulaic. ‘The Enemy of the World’ makes for a refreshing change from the “monster” stories surrounding it, and carries off its James Bond style storyline with considerable panache.

Firstly, ‘The Enemy of the World’ is interesting for its sense of scale; whereas most Doctor Who stories set on Earth take place in England, this story takes place elsewhere in Europe and in Australia. Exactly how effectively the English location work doubles for Australia is questionable; the only visual record of these scenes is the telesnaps (and thus also the Loose Cannon recon), from which it is hard to tell. Consequently, in this regard is entirely possible that the story benefits from finding a new audience as an audio story, since the scope of the story is perhaps over ambitious. The surviving episode three takes place in the European Zone, and is entirely studio bound, although the occasionally mentioned fact that Denes is kept prisoner in a corridor because “it’s easier to guard him” doesn’t inspire confidence in the production teams ability to fully realize the demands on the script on the budget available. Nonetheless, the studio sets seem decent enough; Denes’ headquarters look convincing enough, and based on the recon so does Salamander’s research station and the underground bunker. The costumes too look reasonable enough, although the helmets worn by the guards look horribly dated. Enough speculation about how the overall production however: what about the story?

‘The Enemy of the World’ is an atypical Doctor Who story in that it is largely a political thriller, with a huge dose of James Bond style world-domination plot thrown in for good measure. During the first three episodes, we see a world of the near future divided into Zones, each with its own controller under the overall control of the World Zones Organisation, which has its own security commanded by Donald Bruce, and which is increasingly coming under the influence of the seemingly benevolent Salamander. Whitaker manages to convey this near future society very well via throwaway lines of dialogue referring to two-hour rocket trips from Australia to Europe, and wheat fields in Siberia (courtesy of Salamander’s technology). Later, the emphasis changes to Salamander’s plan to conquer the world, and although he is engineering natural disasters in order to “predict” them and thus gain political leverage by discrediting those who doubt his scientific abilities, he is essentially a James Bond-esque super villain, with a super weapon that can cause earthquakes, volcanoes, and widespread flooding. In lesser hands, this plot could easily become absurd, and descend into moustache-twirling farce akin to Zaroff’s scheme in ‘The Underwater Menace’, but it doesn’t because Whitaker handles it carefully. The true horror of exactly what Salamander is doing is well conveyed through the plight of Swann’s people, and in addition to this, Troughton manages to play Salamander with admirable restraint. 

As the principle villain, Salamander is crucial to the success or failure of ‘The Enemy of the World’. I must inevitably point out that Troughton adopts a cod Mexican accent, which is not even consistent throughout the story, but whilst this is initially rather distracting, it soon dwindles into unimportance in light of the rest of his performance. In addition, although he’s a villain, at least Whitaker is demonstrating that in this future society, someone who isn’t either British or American can rise to a position of considerable power, which is a rare event in Doctor Who in the sixties (due largely of course to the ethnic backgrounds of most of the actors working in Britain at the time). My main appreciation of Troughton’s performance as Salamander is the character’s restraint. Salamander has a silly accent, wears a costume that makes him seem just as eccentric as the Doctor, and is a megalomaniac psychopath; despite this, he never seems fatuous. From the start, he is clearly ruthless and manipulative, organizing the deaths of anyone who threatens his position, including Denes. He is also very clever, having developed the sun-store and revolutionized farming across the entire world. I mentioned Professor Zaroff earlier, and he serves as a useful comparison, since Salamander could easily have been as much a parody as he was, ranting and raving at every opportunity; yet he does not. One of the most notable things about Salamander, other than the obvious fact that he is a doppelganger of the Doctor, is that he always maintains his calm. Many villains in Doctor Who, from the aforementioned Zaroff to Mavic Chen, are prone to outbursts of rage when their plans go astray; not so Salamander. When he discovers that Jamie and Victoria are working for his enemies, he coolly reprimands them in a stern tone; later, when Fedorin fails to poison Denes, he genially beams at him and tells him “You try, you fail, the moon doesn’t fall out of the sky” – and then kills him. This is an effective technique, as it makes him seem all the more unflappable and therefore secure in his power, but never detracts from the air of quiet menace that he exudes. Most impressively of all, he always clearly remains a distinct character from the Doctor, which is tantamount to Troughton’s acting skills. Which compensates for his inability to adopt a convincing Mexican accent…

Salamander’s cool and collected persona contributes even further to making him a memorable villain when the true extent of his evil becomes clear in episode four. He is not merely a ruthless and murderous politician; he is a monster on a far greater scale. It is hinted in episode two that he is responsible for the eruption of the Eperjet Tokyar Mountains, but it is only confirmed when we discover that he has been keeping a group of people prisoner in an underground bunker beneath his research station. The true of horror of this is palpable; for five years, they have endured a nightmarish existence trapped in their subterranean base, believing that the world above is in the midst of a nuclear war, whilst a man that they trust implicitly manipulates them into wiping out large numbers of the population of the world (who also trust him implicitly) in order to increase his personal power. Tragically, whilst Swann’s group are effectively prisoners, they are kept imprisoned by their trust in Salamander and their belief in his lies, rather than any physically barrier that prevents them from leaving the bunker. The bunker scenes are chillingly effective, thanks partly to the excellent incidental score (courtesy of Bartok), and the plight of its occupants is well conveyed by Colin, who is desperate to see the surface once more, and Swann, whose final betrayal and murder by Salamander is truly pitiful. The sheer anguish in Christopher Burgess’ voice as Swann sees the surface for the first time in five years and realises the extent of Salamander’s betrayal is palpable. 

‘The Enemy of the World’ being a David Whitaker script, the characterisation is excellent from the major characters to the minor ones. The most memorable minor character is Griffin, the garrulous chef at Denes headquarters, whose gloomy utterances provide light relief. Of the major characters, Astrid and Fariah are both effective, as are Denes and the nervous, paranoid Fedorin. Arguably the two best supporting characters however are Donald Bruce and Giles Kent. Both of these are examples of Whitaker’s skill at story telling, as both the viewer’s attitudes to both are first steered in one direction and later confounded. Initially, Colin Douglas’ Donald Bruce is suggested to be a villain; he barges arrogantly into Kent’s offices and is seemingly loyal to Salamander. It gradually becomes clear however that this is not the case; in episode three his orders that Denes be treated with respect whilst under arrest hint that he is both fair and honest, and this is finally confirmed in episode five as the Doctor gains his trust and he proves willing to give them the benefit of the doubt and help to investigate Salamander. His seeming loyalty to Salamander early on is misleading; he is simply determined to do his job properly and to the best of his abilities, and his job is to protect Salamander in the absence of evidence that he has committed a crime. Giles Kent on the other hand, excellently portrayed by Bill Kerr, is the reverse of Bruce in that for most of the story he seems to be on the side of the heroes by virtue of opposing Salamander, until the final episode, where the Doctor tricks him into revealing his part in Salamander’s past schemes by, ironically, employing the very trick that Kent has been trying to persuade him to for most of the story; impersonating Salamander. Kent’s true nature is signposted; early on he arranges for Bruce to call in on him, forcing the Doctor to impersonate Salamander on the spot, which is a risky gambit considering the importance Kent places on the opportunity presented by the Doctor. This suggests that Kent will take desperate measures to achieve his ends. Later, he tries to blackmail the Doctor into executing Salamander in exchange for help saving Jamie and Victoria, a ruthless streak that proves to be his undoing, as it alerts the Doctor to his true nature. This is underplayed however, so that the revelation about Kent’s part in setting up the bunker and his knowledge that Salamander is causing natural disasters is still an effective twist, and this is helped by Benik’s earlier persecution of Kent. 

Benik really deserves a mention. Milton Johns’ portrayal is ludicrously camp, but somehow works. It is perhaps slightly over the top, but Benik is such an unpleasant character that he gets away with it, especially when he threatens to shoot either Jamie or Victoria, to main but not to wound. He so obviously means it that he doesn’t seem remotely amusing, and the same is true when he reacts with obvious frustration to the discovery that someone else has killed Fariah before he could. As Bruce says with disgust at the end, he really is “a nasty little man”. 

The regulars are ever reliable; ironically, Troughton’s dual performance sidelines the Doctor for much of the story, but his staunch refusal to act against Salamander without evidence of a crime contrasts nicely with his ruthless doppelganger. Crucially, he is instrumental in exposing Kent, although he doesn’t actually interfere with Salamander’s plans significantly; it is Swann’s discovery of the newspaper and Astrid’s discovery of Swann that cause his undoing, although Kent’s accidental confession to the Doctor does convince Bruce of Salamander’s crimes. It is fitting that the Doctor and Salamander do get a confrontation, albeit one that is brief and somewhat contrived, tacked on as it is at the very end and in the TARDIS. It does provide a nice cliffhanger into ‘The Web of Fear’ though. Having been terrified by Varga for most of the previous story, Victoria gets something of respite, although being threatened by Benik is undoubtedly unpleasant. Jamie on the other hand gets to play the man of action as he pretends to save Salamander’s life, and the scenes in which he confidentially bluffs his way into Salamander’s employ is a reminder of how useful a companion he is. Overall, ‘The Enemy of the World’ is an oddity, but not an unwelcome one, and Season Five is more than strong enough to cope with an atypical story, especially one as entertaining as this.

I think ‘Inside the Spaceship’ (editor’s note: alternate name for ‘Edge of Destruction’) tends to be overlooked or taken for granted by fans; itВ’s a two parter shoved between the first Dalek story and the first (and now legendary due its missing status) historical, it was written to use up spare episodes in the season, the TARDIS nearly gets destroyed because a spring gets stuck etc. Despite all this, ‘Inside the Spaceship’ is a crucial story. Since I only saw it for the first time about two years ago, I haven’t had cause to reassess it as I have the first two Doctor Who stories, and I've long been familiar with the story since the novelisation was published, but it still stood up well to a repeated viewing, especially in context. As I've noted previously, the two previous stories have presented us with a selfish Doctor, willing to use others and even kill to get his own way; they have also shown him having to deal with two new reluctant companions and their challenges of his decisions. Here we see the final stage of the DoctorВ’s early development. When the TARDIS is on the verge of destruction, the Doctor is both paranoid and selfish В– he assumes that Ian and Barbara have sabotaged his ship, even though they almost certainly wouldn’t know how and tries to throw them off the ship regardless of what might be outside. He ignores their suggestions and ideas and continues to distrust them even before he suddenly comes to this conclusion, and seems to blame them partly because doing so offers the path of least resistance; it hides the fact that he doesn’t fully understand his ship and allows him to avoid more frightening possibilities such as an alien invader. Despite his closeness with Susan, her defense of the teachers, or at least pleas not to throw them off the ship, go unheeded В– he counters her assertion that they can’t be responsible for the events in the TARDIS by patronizing her or brushing off her arguments with a wave of the hand. It is only when the truth of the matter starts to become clear that he realises his mistake, and I think it hits him a lot harder than most people realize; initially, as in the Cave of Skulls and on Skaro, fear makes companions of them all once again, the Doctor even asking Ian to face the end alongside him. The four of them work together in frenzy, desperately piecing together the clues, until they release the Fast Return switch and the central column starts its regular rise and fall. After this, the Doctor is forced to apologize and admit that he his wrong, and whilst Ian accepts this graciously, Barbara, who was instrumental in saving their lives, is less forgiving. Already, the Doctor has been forced to accept that his new companions have been instrumental in saving his life and SusanВ’s, and he has had to admit to even less knowledge about the TARDIS than his inability to pilot it has already suggested, and I think that despite already having Susan with him, it is story in which he comes to really appreciate the company of others on his travels. But in addition to this, his obvious embarrassment and shame at his treatment of them in this story is brought out by Barbara, who forces him to make a proper apology – the line “as we learn about others, so we learn about ourselves” I think signifies an acceptance of his less noble qualities and a desire to be rid of them. From this story on, the Doctor is increasingly willing to become involved, and most significantly, he increasingly endangers himself to fight evil. This is a result of the trials of the first three stories, and is one of his most enduring character traits – a far cry from his attempt to kill Za or his casual willingness to let the Thals sort their own problems out until he needs their help to retrieve the fluid link. 

Susan, who I have criticized when discussing the two previous stories, does well here – the scene with the scissors is both disturbing and dramatic and is well-acted by Ford; she has never seemed so unearthly. Her paranoia is more unsettling than the Doctor’s, precisely because she has been so trusting of Ian and Barbara up until this point and it is interesting that she seems more sensitive to the TARDIS than he does at this point – possibly part of the same theme developed further in ‘The Keys of Marinus’ and ‘The Sensorites’. She is also generally surprisingly likeable (so perhaps I have, after all, reassessed this story) and is instrumental in cementing this first TARDIS crew together, as the natural link between her grandfather and her teachers (it is she, remember, who prompts the Doctor to apologize properly to Barbara, and he always seems more stung by her disapproval than that of others). Ian and Barbara also get important roles, especially Barbara who proves that she doesn't need Ian to solve a problem – she is the first to realize that the TARDIS is trying to warn them of danger and she sticks to her argument even in the face of withering scorn from the Doctor. 

The TARDIS of course is the final thing worthy of note В– despite glimpses in ‘The Dead Planet’, it is here that we first get an idea of just how big it is and of course, that it is far more than just a machine. This idea will of course develop with the series, but seeing for it the first time it does make the old girl even more fantastical and much more than just a vehicle. It is also interesting seeing parts of the TARDIS later disposed of – the food machine pretty much vanishes after this point, as does the fault locator. The console room itself looks better at this stage in the showВ’s history than at any other, in terms of size, furniture and overall layout, beside which the versions to come in the colour era look positively tiny. 

So overall, 'Inside the Spaceship’ exists simply to complete the development of the TARDIS crew from reluctant strangers into a group of friends with mutual respect for each other. It does it well and is claustrophobically directed, all of which add up to an overlooked but crucial story.

Following the superb ‘Spearhead From Space’, the production team wisely changed tack and tried something rather different, instead of trying to repeat the success of Pertwee’s first story. The result is a longer, almost ponderous story, but one that approaches its subject matter very well and delivers a morality play unlike anything seen to date in the series. It also goes a lot further towards established Jon Pertwee’s Doctor after his comparatively short and action-packed debut.

It should come as no surprise if I note that the strength of ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ lies in the characterisation, something for which Malcolm Hulke is justifiably renowned, and which I’ll inevitably come to later. This however overlooks the significance of the plot, which is unlike any story seen so far in the series. Whereas in ‘Spearhead From Space’ the Doctor confronted an alien invasion from outer space, a plot with precedents in the series, in ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ the threat is not from outer space, but from an “alien” species native to Earth and with a claim on the planet that predates humanity’s by many thousands of years. The only other “home-grown” menace defeated by the Doctor in the series is WOTAN, which was a new creation, whereas the Silurians have been in hibernation for aeons. This immediately provides the moral dilemma faced by the (alien) Doctor, since he finds himself caught between two species which both live on Earth and which both have a valid right to exist there. And therein lies rub; we immediately have a tragedy in the making, as anger and hostility on both sides scupper the Doctor’s attempts to negotiate a peaceful coexistence between Silurian and Human, resulting in attempted genocide by parties in both groups. With a plot such as this, the conclusion is inevitable; the series format does not lend itself to actually letting the Doctor negotiate peace between the two species, and so the story advances towards the climax with the viewer realizing that the Silurians are not going to get to reclaim their planet. It is this foregone conclusion that provides the framework for the marvellous depth of characterisation presented by the script, but most notably, it allows us to get to know the Third Doctor in more depth.

It is in ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ that Jon Pertwee really establishes himself. During ‘Spearhead From Space’, his extended periods of unconsciousness meant that the Doctor didn’t get much to do for more than about two episodes. Once he had recovered, the four-episode length of the story meant that the remaining screen time was devoted to foiling the Auton invasion. Here however, the Doctor gets seven entire episodes to involve himself in the story, and we really get to see his new character at its best. Firstly, after the jovial nature of the final scene of ‘Spearhead From Space’, we get to see his relationships with Liz and the Brigadier after some time has passed, and they have developed somewhat in the intervening time. The Doctor and Liz clearly work well together as a team, even more so than in ‘Spearhead From Space’, and he seems to appreciate having a capable scientist as a companion, especially during episode six as he tries to find a cure for the Silurian plague. His relationship with the Brigadier is more complex. They are still clearly friends, but there are hints of strain, the Doctor making several jibes about the Brigadier’s military approach to the problems facing them, which eventually visibly start to erode Lethbridge-Stewart’s usual diplomatic attitude. Despite this, his respect for the Doctor seems undiminished, and they continue to pull together under stress, as witnessed in episode seven when they communicate volumes simply by making eye contact. 

In fact, I suspect that the Doctor is almost exclusively responsible for the tension between himself and the Brigadier; there is a general feeling that his relief at being given somewhere to stay and resources with which to repair the TARDIS at the end of ‘Spearhead From Space’ has been rather tarnished as the fact of his exile sinks in. Whilst he has agreed to help the Brigadier (and is willing to do so when the situation merits his involvement) he clearly resents the Brigadier summoning him to the research centre in episode one and refuses to go until Liz talks him into it by massaging his ego. By the end of the story, this situation is rather worse; the Doctor is frustrated by his failure to negotiate peace, and make clear his intention to revive the Silurians one at a time in an attempt to reason with them. Then the Brigadier blows them up. The final scene, as the Doctor tells Liz that this is murder, is remarkable and shows Pertwee on his finest form. The Doctor seems genuinely stunned that the Brigadier has committed such an act, despite the human casualties of the Silurian plague and the fact that they tried to wipe out humanity a second time by using the disperser. It shows the Doctor’s high moral values and his disappointment when others don’t live up to them. In short, the entire story shows this new Doctor to be a strong moral character and Pertwee conveys well his frustration when humans and Silurians alike make peace impossible. 

The characterisation of the supporting characters is what makes ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ famous. Whilst Hulke has a reputation for creating what Terrance Dicks calls “people monsters”, this is only half of the equation. The human characters are just as complex and flawed as their reptilian counterparts. To start with the Silurians, there are only really two that we get to know in any detail, the Old Silurian and the Young Silurian. The Old Silurian represents the Doctor’s best hope for peaceful co-existence, since he realises that the primitive apes of his time have evolved into an intelligent species and agrees to try and live in peace with them. Had he survived, the denouement might have been very different. Early on during the story, the Silurians as a people are clearly shown to be rather more than just a new race of monster; as the Doctor points out, the Silurian wounded by Baker doesn’t kill anyone deliberately except for Quinn, who tries to take it hostage. The dinosaur that attacks people in the caves is twice called off before it can actually kill anyone (although of course it does kill one of the pot-holers in episode one). This suggests that the Silurians can be reasoned with, and the Old Silurian embodies this. Then in episode five, the Young Silurian infects Baker with the plague and any hope of a peaceful solution is dashed. For all the Doctor’s optimism, it seems unlikely that the humans would forgive this attempt at genocide (which results in a significant death toll in London), whether all of the Silurians supported it or not. Once the Young Silurian kills the Old Silurian, the situation becomes even more clearly irretrievable, as this angry creature, furious that his home has been invaded by apes, single-mindedly focuses on reclaiming Earth from the animals that have overrun it, too arrogant accept that they are intelligent, and too blinded by hatred to seek a peaceful solution. Yet for all that the Young Silurian is clearly a “villain” in the traditional Doctor Who sense of the term, Hulke refuses to make him some two-dimensional ranting madman; earlier in the story, he seems to be simply power-mad, but in episode seven as he announces that he will accept the responsibility that he has claimed as leader and will sacrifice himself to ensure that the rest of his people are saved, we see that however evil and misguided his actions are, he is genuinely motivated by the welfare of his people. 

The humans are just as well characterised. All of them have complex motivations, and do not divide easily into good guys and bad guys. Doctor Lawrence is presented as a deeply obnoxious, unpleasant man, who shouts and sneers his way through the story before meeting his end in episode six. Yet despite this, he is an understandable character; his career is on the verge of collapse, destroyed by forces totally outside his control. In episode one, in a brief flash of conscience, he shamefacedly apologizes to Quinn, telling him that he knows that everybody is doing his or her best to find the fault in the cyclotron. Then there is Doctor Quinn, an initially rather likeable character and ironically a unique example of human/Silurian peaceful interaction. But any chance he represents of peaceful coexistence between the two species is blown when his greed for knowledge motivates him to take a Silurian prisoner, resulting in his death. This also has a visible knock-on effect; his confidant Miss Dawson, on discovering his body, becomes a fierce proponent of revenge attacks against the Silurians, urging Masters to order a full frontal attack to wipe them out. She has no knowledge of why Quinn was killed; she merely assumes that the Silurians are hostile. Both her response, and those of Quinn and the captive Silurian are understandable, emotional reactions, and yet it is precisely these reactions that stand in the way of the Doctor’s desire for peace. Then there is Major Baker, misguided and trigger-happy, yet also with the best of intentions and a fierce, blinding loyalty to his own kind that reflects that of the Young Silurian. And of course Masters, a seemingly reasonable and rather likeable civil servant, trying to do his job, surprisingly willing to listen when enough evidence can convince him, and yet so thoughtlessly self-important that it doesn’t even occur to him that he should stay in quarantine. This results in not only his own death, but those of dozens of people in London. This is why ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ is such a tragedy; everyone’s motives are understandable, if not excusable, yet they make a peaceful solution utterly impossible. 

Production wise, ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ stands up well. It can’t help looking slightly shabby next to its glossy predecessor, but the sets are effective, and there is some excellent direction, including the Silurian viewpoints in episodes two and three. The notorious incidental music isn’t too bad either, mainly because it is used at just the right moments to be effective. Overall, ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ continues the high standard of Season Seven begun by ‘Spearhead From Space’, and really establishes the Third Doctor’s characteristic strong sense of morality.

"There's a wealth of scientific knowledge down here, Brigadier - and I can't wait to get started on it."

There are few Doctor Who stories about which I have such a wealth of feeling and which have had such profound effects on me. This may, on the face of it, seem a little strange - after all, I wasn't born when it was first transmitted, and didn't actually see it until the not terribly impressionable age of 21. This is, of course, because when I watch it now, it seems inseparable from Doctor Who and the Cave Monsters, a closely related story indelibly imprinted on me from the day I bought it (as pictures of little blond me clasping it excitedly to my little bosom on the way home from Blackpool will testify).

It's a cracking story - slow and grim, but feeling unusually 'real' and undoubtedly the series' best 'world disaster'. One of the few seven-parters that seems epic enough for its length, this is easily the best Pertwee for me, and one of my all-time faves. It's the only Third Doctor TV adventure I find as good as the book, a great relief after finding several of those other strange TV stories that came to me as 'adaptation of the novel' such a let-down. 

Despite my delight in it, I can see a few flaws from the off. Some Who stories work best watched episodically rather than all in a bunch, but this is not one of those stories. It's not hard to see why, stretched over seven weeks, it didn't capture such a huge audience in the most recent BBC repeat (but it cheered me up, as at the time I was mostly working in Wallasey, hundreds of miles from my beloved and thoroughly cheesed off in a grotty hotel. Besides, it was jollier than listening to The Massacre on headphones). Although it builds up brilliantly by the end, it doesn't start by following on from Spearhead with anything like the same punch, verve or on-screen expense. It could do with a bit of a kick near the beginning to draw people in.

Starting off on colourised video, it immediately looks cheaper than the preceding story, and the dodgy T-Rex is no help. Not as dodgy as Bessie seems, though; with the Doctor tinkering to get her going, you reckon that the Brigadier bought it for him from a scrap merchant to save on the budget. Once the story gets going, it's terrific, but it seems to take an age to start up, and the 'mystery' of the opening episode isn't pulled off as excitingly as it should be. But at least - despite the opening - it seems much more cerebral than last week (must be all the scientists about). 

What makes Doctor Who and the Silurians work right from episode one nonetheless is the quality of the characters, and the actors playing them, even before we come to the first not-all-bad 'monster' characters since Varga. It's striking that no one character that can be labelled as just utterly evil, or completely insane (at least to start with), the usual Doctor Who shorthands for the villain. Malcolm Hulke captures a fatal flaw in the Doctor here, perhaps more craftily than at any other point in the show. He writes for Pertwee at the perfect time when he's still new and appealing and can get away with lines that make him less likeable, without coming over as merely unpleasant. Liz Shaw remains one of the most fabulous companions, despite being treated appallingly at times - already sidelined in just her second story, it's sad that in a saga full of doctorates, only Dr Shaw is deprived of hers and made to work as a secretary: "Personnel will be handled by Miss Shaw." Among many guest appearances, Peter Miles stands out in the first of many shrill, manic parts, and Fulton Mackay steals the show with the charismatic Dr Quinn. He's frightfully good, very laid-back and with a little humour, though with an unmistakable undercurrent of bitterness. It's a real shock when he dies so early, adding to the unexpected realism. Perhaps the standout performance, though, is Nick Courtney's Brigadier, who in a story crammed with much better-drawn characters than we usually get still emerges as the most complex of the lot. While not playing the lead in the way he did in much of Spearhead, he manages to move from hero to villain while remaining entirely true to the spirit of the man. 

What story we get in the first episode largely consists of a spy plot, which might work a little better if it wasn't dropped so quickly not because of underterrestrial evidence, but because the plot no longer needs it. Quinn and his strumpet are briefly implicated, his throwaway line about knowledge to be gained providing the most intriguing moment. We hear about a planned programme of sabotage, but it never quite gets going. The Doctor, however, is on a planned programme of really winding everybody up. He's already far less likeable than he was in Spearhead! "It's not worth 15 million pins if it doesn't work, is it?" never fails to make me smile, but it's not a line calculated to win co-operation. His threat to Dr Meredith that he can do whatever he pleases is also jarring; in the past, he may have said such things as a Provincial Officer or an official Examiner, yet that was play-acting, and our Doctor now appears to have become an authoritarian for real. Thank heavens the Brigadier is there to take him down a peg. Can you imagine anyone else getting away with dismissing all his clues and calling him "Dr Watson," a bright remark which sends the Doctor into such a sulk that he decides to go down into the caves very suddenly. As if just for the cliffhanger.

It's not as if the first cliffhanger is even much cop. We may have had a little tension from ancient mind-destroying horrors, all very At the Mountains of Madness and Quatermass and the Pit, but they lose their nerve and reach for the unconvincing T-Rex (or "some sort of dinosaur") when it comes to something to bring us back next week. It's then lured away by the sound of someone having sex on creaky bedsprings. I'm scared. As if to draw further attention to budgetary shortcomings, Lethbridge-Stewart admits he only has 5 or 6 men - and they really have a Brigadier in charge of them? The Doctor even returns from his deadly cliffhanger with no ill effects at all. Fortunately, it's about this point that things really take off, with Baker swiped in the caves and the reptile person emerging into the light and wandering about so gorgeously shot it's as if the director's just woken up. Simmering tensions between Lawrence and Quinn come crashing on Miss Dawson, and all at once the stakes seem raised - it's only part 2, and the director's already demanding UNIT be recalled.

Admittedly, Farmer Squire's wife isn't a patch on Meg Seeley, but I'm always a sucker for that Quatermass-style selective race memory, and the great three-eye-view of Liz as she's attacked for the cliffhanger is actually rather gripping. Amazingly, the pace keeps up, and the Doctor both spots what's suspicious and doesn't help very much, forcing Quinn onto the defensive instead of gaining his confidence. And, gosh, they've got a 'copter for the search (which is done rather well). It all looks much darker than Spearhead, and the tone's darker too, with very little comic relief and rather less pizzazz - but it no longer feels cheaper, and by now it's drawn you in.

The Doctor's baiting of Quinn at his cottage is well done, and finally gets under Quinn's cool, but it's a shame; if the Doctor had still been Troughton, he might have charmed him into something, not just got his back up. It's a miracle that he nearly gets something out of Miss Dawson, given that she and Quinn are so blatantly both in love with the same person - Dr Quinn. It remains difficult not to feel rather sad and rather regretful at the Doctor's tactics when we find Quinn dead, despite the rather good cliffhanger to introduce the new race. Given all that, the bathos of the following scene is shocking. Is "Hello - are you a Silurian?" the silliest line the Doctor's ever uttered?

Hulke's characterisation of the Doctor in regularly giving him such 'foibles' as being a git and lying to people, rather than making him entirely heroic, again come to the fore when his not informing the Brigadier of Quinn's death instantly begins to undermine his position with Lethbridge-Stewart. While there's perhaps a little much dodging in and out of the caves, Baker being trapped in the foaming rock pool looks rather nastily effective (and more interesting than the more prosaic mantrap of the book). The Doctor and Liz going down and then Liz popping up again seems a little easy, but it sets up the arguments which make up most of the next episode, and concludes, in effect, the first story. Yes, that's right. It’s really two stories meshing in the middle, rather as if the Holmes 'split story' technique had come in early: Doctor Who and the Cave Monsters (ooh, what's going on in the caves?) followed by Doctor Who and the Silurian Plague, with a whole new set of issues once all the first have actually been resolved. Perhaps it's this aspect that makes the serial seem to go on far less long than many other six-or-seven-parters, even with if it means one story ends with a rather unimpressive gurning cliffhanger.

Perhaps resting on the cliffhanger point itself is a little unfair. Watching it now, it's striking that the real revelation - and of course the 'message' - that we have by the end of part 4 is that both sides are very similar people, and not in a very attractive way. The immediate ancestors of this story are not the more straightforward monster tales of the Troughton era, but Whitaker's historicals and accounts of high-ranking intrigue. I wonder if Galaxy 4 would have had the same effect on me? I suspect not, with its simpler "Beautiful can be bad, ugly can be good" reversal rather than shades of grey and two races each split into myriad fears and hopes, and without the critical innovation of the 'prior claim' on what we think of as our planet. It's on these people that the story turns: a politician trying to do what's best but with the minimum of embarrassment; Morka arrogantly refusing to see any other view than that the planet belongs to his people; the Brigadier increasingly frustrated as the Doctor's behaviour and lack of trust forces him into a corner; Okdel hesitantly prepared to exchange knowledge; Miss Dawson gunning for the 'monsters'. Having said all that about 'character', it's interesting that Vietnam-era aggressor Morka (so much more memorable a name than 'Young' - presumably he wears a leather jacket and, aged only 65,226,801, is much more hip than Old Okdel's ungroovy 65,226,858) is the only reptile person that sounds like he's doing an American accent. Satire, or just bad acting?

Altogether, this patch has got some splendid dialogue, with actors mainly arguing in twos - Young Silurian and Scientist, Doctor and Old Silurian, Lawrence and Masters, plus that great debate, with Liz speaking for the liberals, Miss Dawson subbing for the Daily Mail (string the monsters up! It’s the only language they understand!), Masterly inaction and the increasingly deranged Lawrence hilariously accusing everyone else of delusions. Who says ‘talky’ means dull? The argument between Liz and Dawson fair blazes, for example, while the discussion between the Doctor and Okdel is far calmer, with the revelation of the Moon - and Baker shouting 'traitor' (off) at him. Admittedly, I suspect the Saudis would have something to say about humanity giving away hot places, but at least it saves the Brigadier (ironically). It's still not got quite everything going for it, though, as some splendid reptile people plotting and Baker’s near-escape are made far less watchable by the music reaching new lows - this is ‘When Kazoos Go Bad’. They’re so intrusive, you could call it 'The Power of the Kazoos', couldn’t you, making the ear-splitting Sea-quel 'The Evil of the Kazoos'…

It's a good job there are so many character moments about, of course, as once again the action seems to consist of people going into the caves and coming back out again. When the mucky Brigadier responds to another childish diatribe with "I lost a lot of men in those caves, Dr Lawrence," there’s a calm pain about him that’s really impressive, and only slightly undermined by the way he’s already admitted he has very few men, none of whom were seen to die there. Meanwhile, back in the reptile people's shelter, things are no more harmonious. There's quite a savage row between the cave leaders, with Okdel basically saying "Shut up or I'll kill you." He's clearly shaken when he gives the Doctor the bacteria, though (as well as shaking!), and then Morka does the equivalent of shooting him in the back. It's not even a trial of strength! It's a shame, as Hulke has given some thought to 'creature character', yet neither their characters nor culture are as complex as the humans', and Morka in particular often comes over as caricatured (but I suppose you can't get it all right first time). Let's face it, this is hardly a very stable or civilised system of government. Mind you, the Cabinet might be more fun with third eyes; Brown boggles Blair while he’s not looking, Beckett blasts Brown over dinner, but is toasted by Jack Straw with his three-eyed glasses, and Straw’s then savaged by Blunkett's guide dinosaur... Which all makes it rather odd that, up top, Masters remains an unusually subtle and well-meaning Who politician (or possibly civil servant, as it's never made clear on screen, and the book gives him a civil servant's rank but makes him an MP!). "My report will of course exonerate you completely - I'm sure you did everything in your power," though, is just the sort of kindly way of saying "Bang goes your funding, good luck finding a university post" that actually makes you sorry for Lawrence, a wretched man with no faith but suddenly acquiring Job's job description.

This episode having been stuffed full of more drama than you find in most whole Who stories, it's glorious to reach the end and discover that the climax lives up to it. The Doctor arguing about confining Baker and not putting him into hospital is done with real conviction, and it's notable that once he returns to the surface, all the talking starts to pay off. His leaving the caves triggers Morka's coup, and gets everything moving up top. Baker is very eager to convince himself that he escaped… but it's hardly surprising, as he's been self-delusional all along, with his saboteur obsessions. Then he staggers out to die, for a staggeringly grim cliffhanger - surely the scariest in the series so far. And there are still two episodes to go…

Facing the gravest threat to humanity since the Black Death (or possibly the last story), the Doctor immediately trusts the Brigadier to act, and Lethbridge-Stewart appears to trust the Doctor again to get the problem sorted - though he's not forgotten the trouble his scientific adviser's been earlier. The Brigadier's worth his weight in gold, doing the right thing immediately at the hospital (even though that happens to be ordering people about with a gun), and the Doctor sets up his regimen of injections. Part of the implicit bargain here appears to be that when the Brigadier tells the long-suffering Liz to staff the phones and she protests, once again the Doctor backs him up! No wonder she ends up leaving so soon, and of course sooner still it's all the more ironic that the Brigadier completely stiffs the Doctor at the end, with Liz his apologist - as if even she finally loses patience with the Doctor, despite agreeing with his views (and in the book, of course, she's pissed off with him throughout).

Even the Brigadier's unusually efficient bit of martial law is unable to prevent Masters reaching London, and while the journey may be less tense than in the novel, the arrival is stunning. The Marylebone scenes are extraordinarily well-mounted and scary; aliens with rayguns are one thing, but this is even worse than the more obviously memorable Autons on the high street; this is an everyday place ravaged by a horrible illness, and is horribly plausible in its turn. It looks like a documentary or some disaster drama. It makes you really proud of Doctor Who, that it can be so depressing! Oh, hang on... As the guard pitches over and the camera follows the blue lamp, it looks like the end of the world is approaching. 

Mass death and panic are brought home by also focusing on the death of poor Masters, staggering around London before toppling down, and accompanied by Morka's most chilling line so far, a whispered "I am the Leader now" that finally sounds in control, just as Lawrence is on the verge of finally losing his in winding up Dr Shaw. The effect is to suggest the Wenley Moor director is stupid and the new shelter leader isn't, but viewers will of course know they share the same critical error of disregarding the Doctor: "They're only apes," says Morka.

Lawrence's final end is striking in a number of ways - it's yet another real character who hasn't even made it to the final episode, let along out the final credits, and as well as his ghastly blistering from the plague helping bring home its threat, his raving is highly disturbing. As with the disease, this unusual story first warns, then illustrates - it doesn't just tell us that the place is riddled with nervous breakdowns, but actually shows us one, and very squirmy it is to watch, too. The story's length and well-drawn characters mean that almost uniquely in the series, Lawrence has time to descend into paranoid madness, and we care about it.

This is perhaps the most frightening episode of Doctor Who, because it's the most believable. We see the spread of the disease; we see people we 'know' die from it or lose their minds from the horror; we see our heroes desperately struggling to find a cure, or the Brigadier trying to keep the country afloat on the 'phone. Extraordinarily, rather than becoming dated, the modern advance of combined drug treatments to check the effects of viruses like HIV only adds greater plausibility - though the same can hardly be said for the line, "Some of these drugs are so new we don't even know their properties yet." So they could be, what, dancefloor fun, or antifreeze?

So caught up can you be by the terrifying culture shock of the biological warfare that it's easy to forget its instigators. Unwise, of course, but so do the regulars, and although it's interesting to see 'young stallion' Morka cutting from the front, it's difficult not to feel that the cliffhanger reintroducing a less virulent threat and carrying off the Doctor with his most unconvincing boggle actually lowers the dramatic tension rather than raise it as a climax should. Still, more room for the Brigadier to come over well ("With respect, sir, I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation. …But there's no time to refer it to the Defence Committee!") before making something of a tactical blunder in allowing his mean to be lured out. 

In the endgame, it's obviously easier to convey the drama of a big ticking bomb / gun / molecular disperser than it is to show a disease being cured all round (thrilling zooms on: hospital beds and Horlicks!), even if it still feels like a lower gear than last week's. More interestingly, you can see points at which the trust between the Doctor and the Brigadier deteriorates further; after being kept waiting so long for the antidote formula, Lethbridge-Stewart would be only human to entertain the odd doubt on the Doctor disappearing in the company of 'the enemy'. The Doctor then reappearing, in white, framed by psychotic reptile people, not only looks scary - he actually shows no sign of being bothered at first that they’re going to kill UNIT's CO. It's Hawkins' attack that saves him, and only then does the Doctor appear to make up his mind (but, some might say, at least Avon gets killed). 

The reptile people’s random killing of base staff at the end is actually quite chilling, too. Monsters usually threaten; they don’t just scythe down characters straight away! It's rather more like a modern terrorist drama than typical Doctor Who, and serves to emphasise both this serial's unusually high body count and how few of those have actually died in the "thrilling shoot-out" action you'd normally expect. We're still some way off the credits for part 7, yet most of the people in part 1 are long-dead, and half the cast who made it this far will be dead by the end. It also serves to emphasise the deadly intent of the rather uninspiring prehistoric microwave with which the human race is to be cooked, though in fairness the machine also supplies more evidence of the so far somewhat sparse reptile civilisation. A bit of art wouldn't hurt, a bit more technology, or more than two sound effects while they do everything by third eye 'magic'. 

"Doctor, what do you think you're doing?" asks the Brigadier, who by now is clearly far from convinced that the Doctor is play-acting when he goes to help the Elder Earthlings (and in that rather unwise t-shirt, he does look a bit shifty). "You mustn't help him!" he even orders Liz, who - like the audience - has more faith, but the skilful writing and Courtney's performance make his not trusting the Doctor an inch perfectly understandable. It's also rather impressive that the Doctor really does have to overload the power core to scare off the reptile people - for once, it’s not just a bluff - and that the same thing that wakes the reptile people in the first place becomes the cause of their downfall, rather than the power being merely a background detail.

With the machine blown up, the monsters in retreat and the Doctor saying "Yes, I know, I'll try fusing the control of the neutron flow" (admittedly not then the cosy nod that that sort of line has become in retrospect), you'd expect this to be the end, but the last few minutes are brilliant - just when every other Who story would finish, we get great stuff like Morka finally showing he’s not just a violent egomaniac, as he realises that leadership involves responsibility. It makes his death suddenly poignant, and rather graphic. The Doctor is really, well, Doctorish with his pursuit of scientific knowledge, and what a joy it is to see that - except for the Brigadier, who is having none of it, but not yet blustering. Lethbridge-Stewart gives him a seriously evil look as the Doctor contemplates a reptile revival, and while I'm on the Doctor's side through and through, now I can see what's brought the Brigadier to this point, I wonder if the Doctor couldn't have retained his trust, and so kept Morka's people alive. It isn't really their disagreement that precipitates the final crisis, but their distrust - it's not impossible that the Brigadier's sealing of the caves is not inevitable, but in part a lesson to the Doctor, to show him 'who's boss'. Both actors are at their very best, with shock meeting quiet, deadly efficiency. Has Jon Pertwee a finer moment than that appalled look at the exploding caves, in a fantastic Doctor scene that lures you into thinking it'll just be the comic relief? 

The Doctor loses. He actually loses. And the first person to beat him since Tlotoxl is to become his friend; it's easy to conclude that it's a shame they had to get on after this. I'm no longer sure that's true. Perhaps this is simply a better story than any that follow with the Doctor and UNIT, and none of the rest could cope with this level of drama. But perhaps also the Doctor realises that UNIT is in the right place at the right time, and could be doing the right thing if he changed tactics and tried harder to persuade them; it's a better excuse for his becoming the 'establishment' Doctor than any other I've heard, and despite his loud distaste for politicians, for once it's an argument for working 'inside the system'. This Doctor's instincts have been spot-on, and he's tried to do good throughout, but it's all undermined by his own fatal flaw: arrogance. Ironically, the Doctor realises that the solution is for everybody just to get along with each other, but his confrontational approach and unwillingness to trust people with information shows that he's incapable of following his own advice. In life, in politics and in Doctor Who and the Silurians, getting everyone's back up rarely gets you results, even if you're right.

Run end credits - and notice how much shorter they are than for than part 1. Oh, and I have to get this out of my system: he's not Doctor Who. They're not Silurians. But it's still a cool title.

This story has a lot to answer for… Reading its message that green scaly rubber people are people too turned me into a Liberal. Appropriately, it's one of the few Who stories I saw first as an adult that I can remember exactly where I was when I saw it for the first time. It was five am the day after it was released by BBC Video, and I was crashing in a sleeping bag on someone's floor (the glamour of politics) and blearily determined to get it all watched before it was time to go out for another day's trudging the streets to canvass and deliver leaflets in the 1993 Christchurch by-election, which turned out to be a great Liberal Democrat victory over the Tories. Devoted as I was to the cause, this story was still something I desperately wanted to make time for as early as possible, and I was thrilled - even though it had actually been a life-changing experience many years earlier. And without having read the book, who knows? Perhaps I wouldn't have been there at all…