Although Season Seven is generally regarded as being a strong one, fans seem to be only talking about ‘Spearhead From Space’, ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’ and ‘Inferno’ when they sing the season’s praises. ‘The Ambassadors of Death’ must be one of the most underrated Doctor Who stories of the Pertwee era. This is a shame, because much as I like the two previous stories, ‘The Ambassadors of Death’ is one of my favourite Jon Pertwee Doctor Who stories. 

The first reason that I like ‘The Ambassadors of Death’ so much is its gritty, adult feel. Since ‘Spearhead From Space’ the series has felt somehow more grown up, and ‘The Ambassadors of Death’ continues this trend but manages to take it a step further. In terms of production, it looks much better than ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’, partly because it avoids the use of monsters that are obviously men in rubber suits, but mainly because of the tight direction by Michael Ferguson. Although the previous story is sufficiently good that it carries suspension of disbelief beyond the rubbery Silurian costumes, the tactic used here, of keeping the aliens disguised in space suits, is startlingly effective. The three aliens are very sinister, due to a combination of their blank, impassive faceplates, eerie incidental music (something from which this Season as a whole benefits greatly), and some superb camera work as typified by the alien astronaut advancing towards the UNIT sentry out of the sunlight in episode four. But of course, we also do get to see an alien unmasked. The alien space captain doesn’t really count; he wears his own costume complete with mask, and is seen only through a screen, the picture deliberately obscured. Then, in episode six, we get what remains one of my favourite scenes from the entire season. Liz enters the chamber housing the three captive aliens, and is cut off from the exit. One of the aliens unclips its helmet and removes it to reveal a distorted, alien face, which is utterly inhuman. This sounds straightforward enough written down like that, but the genius of the scene is in the camera work. To pulsing, eerie music, the camera image of Liz starts to pulsate, then flicks between Liz and the alien, giving us a brief, shocking glimpse of the alien’s misshapen lumpy features. It is a genuinely creepy moment and all because of the way it is shot. This is the real strength of this story, and is filled with inspired direction that makes a decent story into a forgotten classic. The model work is also generally very good. Even the CSO used in the alien spaceship looks OK.

Direction aside, the story itself stands up well, despite the complex writing and rewriting process it underwent at the hands of about three different writers. This is no bog-standard alien invasion as we are initially led to believe in the early episodes. These are not invaders collaborating with a human traitor to launch a secret invasion like that of the Cybermen in ‘The Invasion’. This is something much more complex. The plot twists and turns impressively, keeping the viewer guessing, until finally it is revealed that the three aliens are ambassadors, invited to Earth by the woefully misguided General Carrington so that he can use them to convince Earth that an invasion is underway, hopefully prompting the united nations to destroy the alien spacecraft in orbit. His motivation? The accidental death of a friend and fellow astronaut years previously at the hands of one of the aliens, who didn’t realize that its touch would kill. Carrington is a character that evokes a great deal of sympathy; he is not evil per se, just psychologically scarred a past encounter with another species and genuinely believing that what he is doing is his “moral duty”. The Discontinuity Guide describes the ending as one of the series’ finest, as the Doctor allows Carrington to keep his dignity; it is a valid observation. The Doctor’s expression is full of sympathy and pathos as he tells Carrington that he understands his motives. 

The advantage of this plot is that it allows for a good deal of misdirection as we are kept guessing as to who the villains are. Carrington is clearly not a full-blown villain from the start, as he orders his Sergeant not to kill the UNIT troops in the warehouse. This adds to the intrigue as both the viewers and the Brigadier are given cause to wonder why the Sergeant doesn’t shoot Lethbridge-Stewart in episode one. With Quinlan and Taltalian thrown into the mix, the plot becomes even more convoluted as co-conspirators start to crawl out of the woodwork. We finally get a real villain in the form of Reegan, although he is clearly not the mastermind behind the kidnapping of the aliens. Reegan is a refreshing villain; he’s genuinely nasty and murderous, but he’s not a typical Doctor Who megalomaniac, he just wants to use the aliens to rob banks. This in itself makes for a pleasant change, but Reegan works even better because he is genuinely charismatic villain. William Dysart imbues his character with a certain charm, but this is not the smarmy, oily charm of Tobias Vaughan. Dysart’s performance is quietly understated, yet convincingly intimidating when the situation calls for it. Reegan is one of the series best, and most overlooked, psychopaths. His final scene, as he sits quietly with an air of resigned amusement having been captured at gunpoint by the Brigadier, sums up the character; Reegan is man who takes advantage of existing situations and just before he is lead away, he suggests to the Brigadier and the Doctor that they use the aliens to break into Space Control and defeat Carrington, thus probably saving the world. He cheekily tells them not to forget that this was his suggestion as he is led away. 

The rest of the guest put in decent performances, especially John Abineri as Carrrington, Cyril Shaps (who seems born to play nervous and twitchy scientists) as Lennox, and Ronald Allen (previously Rago in the ‘The Dominators’) as Cornish. The latter is an interesting character, because despite the usual initial friction between the Doctor and another scientist who is also an authority figure, they quickly build up a mutual respect and show considerable rapport throughout the remainder of the story. I also feel compelled to point out that Cornish is occasionally a very sinister character, which seems to be unintentional; I get the impression that this is how Ronald Allen acts! The regulars do very well out of the script. The Doctor is crucial to the story’s resolution, and gets a key role throughout as he takes a trip into space via more conventional means than usual. Pertwee is still on very fine form, and the Doctor remains a commanding figure. He also gets a classic Third Doctor rant as he snaps at Cornish in episode one. His friendship with the Brigadier is initially still rather strained by the events of ‘Doctor Who and the Silurians’, but regains its strength during this story, which shows them working together rather well as a team. Liz gets her best outing to date, separated from the Doctor and kidnapped by Reegan, she stands up to thugs and deals with a stressful situation admirably well. Her defiant attitude with Reegan shows her refusal to be cowed, even by a murderous psychopath and is a reminder of just how strong a character she is. 

There is one problem with ‘The Ambassadors of Death’, and it annoys me every time I watch it. How does Lennox die? Putting an isotope in his cell wouldn’t kill him like that. It would cause massive chromosomal damage that would probably result in cancer eventually, and it might cause radiation sickness that could kill him in a matter of days. It’s a minor plot hole, and the rest of the story works so well that I can forgive it, but it is irritating. In summary, ‘The Ambassadors of Death’ is an overlooked classic; it even convinces me that Britain had a space program in the 1970s and that we landed astronauts on Mars!

‘The Moonbase’ is notable for being the first of several Troughton “base under siege” stories, but is the second such story to feature in the series as a whole. The reason for it being the second such story is that it is largely a retread of ‘The Tenth Planet’. Despite this however, it is a rather different beast from Hartnell’s swan song. In my opinion, it simply isn’t as good as its predecessor, since despite being only four episodes long, it somehow manages to feel padded. This is due largely to episode two. The first episode of ‘The Moonbase’ establishes the story’s setting well and has a suitably chilling feel to it due to the unexplained disappearances of the moonbase personnel, helped by the eerie incidental score. The problem is, at the end of episode one, we see a Cyberman, and although it looks somewhat different from the Cybermen in ‘The Tenth Planet’, Polly is on hand to tell the viewer what it is in case they didn’t recognise it. After this however, we get approximately twenty minutes of pure padding, as the Doctor tries to find the source of the mystery illness that is striking down the moonbase staff, during which time he mostly clowns around irritating everybody by stealing their boots. The occasional cameo by the Cyberman reminds us of the creatures’ presence, but since we already know that they are lurking, any potential tension is diffused and the viewer (or at least, this viewer) merely wants the plot to advance. This eventually happens just before the end of episode two, as the Doctor identifies the sugar as the source of Cybermen’s virus, and then a Cyberman emerges from its hiding place under a sheet. This cliffhanger is actually fairly daft, especially as the Cyberman gets out of bed in a way that suggests that it badly needs its first cup of tea of the day. The first half of the story would have been far more effective in my opinion had the presence of the Cybermen been maintained a secret up until this point. From the start of episode three onwards however, things improve somewhat. A sense of claustrophobia is created by the fact that the human occupants of the base are well and truly trapped, with rampaging Cybermen outside and their mind-controlled servants within. The importance of the gravitron to Earth is well conveyed, and tension is maintained throughout the latter half of the story as the Cybermen relentlessly attack in one way or another. Even after the first three Cybermen in the base are destroyed, more appear outside in even larger numbers, and continuously terrorize the humans in the base, whether by cutting off their communications or taking remote control of the gravitron via Evans and using it to plunge the rescue ship into the sun, or by drilling a hole in the dome and thus letting the air out. The direction and incidental score are both crucial to maintaining this tense atmosphere, and do so most effectively, especially the dramatic Cyberman theme reused from ‘The Tenth Planet’. In particular, the bizarre appearance of those base personnel who have succumbed to the Cybermen’s neurotrope X is highly effective and rather disturbing. The moon surface sets and model work (except for the rather feeble Cybermen space ships) are also impressive and recreate the surface of the moon more than adequately. The utilitarian sets used for the actual moonbase are rather drab, but intentionally so. 

The Cybermen have been extensively redesigned since ‘The Tenth Planet’ and both lose and gain from this. 

They are far less human, and no longer have fleshy hands or cloth-covered faces, resulting in a more robotic appearance. This removes some of the grotesque body horror impact of the creatures and unfortunately makes them seem more like actual robots and less like surgically altered humans. On the other hand, their faces are more blank and impassive than previously, which makes them seem more intimidating, and the script and direction combined with this succeed in making them scarier than before. The scene in which a Cyberman chases Benoit across the moon’s surface is particularly gripping, but other scenes of note are the remorseless march of numerous Cybermen towards the moonbase and their casual tearing apart of the radio antennae which is made more sinister than might be expected by the sudden and chilling musical sting that accompanies it. Their new voices are more monotonous and less macabre than their singsong lilt from ‘The Tenth Planet’, and are far more menacing. The less human appearance of these Cybermen is partly compensated for by the fact that we actually see them altering humans for the first time, by using the neurotrope X to make them susceptible to mind control. The zombie-like state to which Evans and the others are reduced is the first time we actually see a hint of the process of cyber-conversion and the resulting dehumanization that inspired Kit Peddlar when he created them. Unfortunately, their lack of emotions, a supposedly distinctive feature of the Cybermen, is rather undermined by some atrocious scripting in episode three as one of the Cybermen takes the piss out of the humans (“only stupid earth brains like yours would have been fooled”) and also employs sarcasm (“clever, clever, clever”). This lapse is confined to one scene, but is incredibly irritating. 

The regulars do not benefit especially well from ‘The Moonbase’. The Doctor spends most of the time prevaricating, although he does identify the source of the neurotrope X, and also comes up with the means to defeat the Cybermen at the end. Nevertheless, the story is plotted in such a way that he really doesn’t seem to do much. On the other hand, Troughton gets the oft-quoted lines “There are some corners of the universe that have bred the most terrible things. Things that act against everything we believe in. They must be fought”. As in ‘The Power of the Daleks’, the Doctor could probably leave in the TARDIS if he wanted to, but refuses, preferring to stay and root out evil. Compare this to his attitude in ‘100,000 BC’ and ‘The Mutants’, and it reminds us how much he’s changed since the series began. As for the companions, ‘The Moonbase’ suffers from the same problem as ‘The Underwater Menace’ in that Jamie is surplus to the requirements of the script. The solution to this problem here is slightly better than in the previous story in that he spends two episodes in bed rather than just acting as a silent shadow to Ben. His need to recover from his head injury at least provides initial justification for the TARDIS crew to remain on the Moon, and his (slightly embarrassing) “phantom piper” scenes at least play a role in revealing the story’s protagonists to the viewer. Polly at least gets to shine briefly by coming up with the means to defeat the first wave of Cybermen, although the fact that none of the solvents mentioned would attack any type of plastic likely to be included in the construction of the Cybermen never ceases to annoy the lab-worker in me (in the unlikely event that the Cybermen’s chest units are made primarily of polystyrene, some of the solvents might have an effect, but certainly not that quickly). 

The supporting characters are fairly forgettable. The attempt to show a multi-national moonbase crew is admirable if rather inadequate, but none of them get much characterisation; only Hobson is even remotely memorable. On the whole, ‘The Moonbase’ more-or-less succeeds as a claustrophobic thriller, but is ultimately flawed. Nevertheless, it establishes the Cybermen as recurring monsters and for that at least is notable.

Following on from the excellent 'Remembrance of the Daleks', 'The Happiness Patrol' features Sylvester McCoy still on top form, and the Doctor here has too many good lines to list. One glorious moment sees him turning the questions back on the questioner, Trevor Sigma, while another is his confrontation with two guards (a classic Who moment). There are many more good moments, and only two lapses into bad-McCoy territory: the first, at the end of episode one, where McCoy really doesn't manage to pull off a plausible reaction to the Kandy Man's threat; and the second, a moment where he tries to sing the blues, and just looks silly. The latter, however, is saved by the context of the scene, where atmospheric and subtle support is given by Richard D. Sharp, playing Earl Sigma, a wandering medical student, who happens to be an ace player of the blues harmonica.

The score of 'The Happiness Patrol' is, of course, one its very best traits. Layered on top of the usual incidental music is a carefully judged combination of blues guitar and harmonica playing. In tune with the score is the set design, mixing together (with no lack of irony) the hard-edged industrial paintings of Fernand Leger, imagery from Lang's 'Metropolis', and the colour pallete of a children's sweet packet. Of course, as we know, good set design in 1980s Doctor Who stories was often ruined by boring, flat lighting. Pleasingly, that is not the case here. Moody and atmospheric film-noir (albeit full-colour-film-noir) lighting of the street and pipe scenes makes for one of the best looking Doctor Who stories ever made. One of the scenes to benefit vastly is the cliff-hanger to episode two. From a shot of a member of the happiness painting 'RIP' (in pink) onto an execution poster, the camera slowly pans to focus on the Doctor, eyes in shadow, looking part-anxious, part-highly-dangerous toppler of evil regimes; the shot is held for a second or two, and then the music surges in. A cliff-hanger to beat all cliff-hangers. 

Watching 'The Happiness Patrol' now, almost 15 years after it was originally broadcast, what stands out is the cleverness of it all. The evidence indicates that a lot of work, on several levels, went into constructing a story often accused of being poorly made and tacky. It may have had a low budget, but it doesn't suffer from it; and any 'tackiness' is clearly ironic, working within the context of the narrative. There are occasional moments when a detail of the production makes you wonder if they couldn't have thought things through a bit more, and occasionally the editing is over-zealous, cutting a scene a little too short, and lessening the effect of a punchline or a dramatic speech. But these are minor problems, and they do little to spoil the enjoyment of a thoroughly ambitious and engaging Doctor Who serial.

The story's opening is beautifully dark, with a suitably disturbing introduction to one of the Doctor's boldest stories. The period of the story is set efficiently, and the introduction of the Doctor and Ace shows off the wonderful rapport that has developed between both the characters and the actors. The Doctor's line, 'It's a surprise,' in reference to the reason for their visit, seems almost cruel on a repeated viewing, evidence of the Doctor's evolution, an overall theme of the story, into someone, or something, darker; less predictable.

The Doctor and Ace seem to 'slide' into the story, and are almost too readily accepted with no question from the players, but this ultimately only reinforces the themes developed later in the story and is typical of the show's era. The introduction of Nimrod is our first true sign that all is not as it should be, besides the glowing purple eyes which merely softened the impact without ever being adequately explained. Despite events spiralling dangerously, the Doctor now takes an admirable degree of control over the situation. It is perhaps of no coincidence that a character by that very name appears later in the story. The character of Josiah Smith,though, is a truly wonderful creation of style, with his shades, dust and white gloves, combined with substance, in his references to the moth's need to evolve due to industrial influence, again introducing the theme of evolution.

The story feels as if a great debt is owed to 'Sapphire and Steel' in as much as it feels wonderfully claustrophobic, and not least for the shots of Redvers strapped into a straightjacket whilst light pours from the snuffbox. The scripting also shines, as shown in the exchange between Ace and the Doctor as the girl realises that her protector has deceived her; but it is the Doctor's revelation that he loathes bus stations, unrequited love, cruelty and tyranny that simply explains the Doctor for who he is.

The story is filmed with a certain flair including some beautiful juxtaposition of imagery, such as the Reverend being drugged whilst Josiah's niece plays the piano, for example; the song predicting the Reverend's final fate.

There follows an example of one this era's laudable 'reality slaps', where Ace reveals how her friend's flat was firebombed, causing Ace to no longer care. Beside being dramatic and anchoring the fantastic in a harsh reality, these references served the writers of Virgin's 'New Adventures' extraordinarily well. 

Of pure joy is the knowing line, 'Oh don't worry, I always leave things to the last moment.' It serves not only as a reference to the way the Doctor always appeared to deal with the problem in 'the nick of time', but also emphasises the way the Doctor has again taken control of the situation. This becomes a recurring theme in this era, introducing the concept of the Doctor as a controller, rather than simply being caught up in a chain of events. It is something of a shame that McCoy's earlier stories put so many viewers off 'Doctor Who' , resulting in many people not witnessing the show's gradual transformation into something darker, more adult; a show beginning to show itself more than worthy of tackling the concerns of the final part of the millennium.

The introduction of the Policeman quietly emphasises the Doctor's power and also carries an echo of characters from earlier Victorian stories in his true old-fashioned perspective, along with the racist attitudes.

The Doctor reminds us of two things with his line, 'You must excuse me, things are getting out of control'; that he does exert some form of control over the proceedings but that his control is not perfect. This has the effect of disquieting the viewer and adds to the reinvented mysterious nature the Doctor has been acquiring, as events spiral out of control once more. The disturbing concept of the Doctor directly meddling and then losing control is never more emphasised than when Light casually destroys the maid under Josiah's control.

We learn more of Ace's past as her character is fleshed out further, just before a delightfully creepy yet somewhat kitsch sequence which leads to an equally delightful mid-episode cliffhanger as the now darkened Gwen takes advantage of Ace's momentary weakness. The following action sequences admittedly let the story down, but to err is to leave one wanting more. There is a wonderful nod to the now late Douglas Adams, as the Doctor, and the script, regain control, culminating in the excising of Ace's ghosts.

I've just watched ‘Marco Polo’ as part of my Who marathon, thanks entirely to Loose Cannon, who have provided a superb recon. I should just note that there are some fans who will insist that a story cannot be judged based on its soundtrack alone, or even a recon – I don’t agree, since the heavy dependence on dialogue of Doctor Who at the time easily allows most of the missing stories to transfer fairly easily to audio, especially with narration or captions to cover the action sequences. However, if anyone out there does stridently insist that I can’t judge an incomplete story without having seen it as first broadcast, then read no further and wait until I get to ‘The Keys of Marinus’.

Anyway, ‘Marco Polo’ is an interesting story for several reasons. Firstly of course, it is the earliest missing story and is completely missing (not even clips survive), which have given it a near-legendary status. This is helped by the fact that the soundtrack has not yet been released on CD and is (at least my experience) harder to get bootleg copies of than the other missing episodes. Secondly, it is the first historical, and also the longest. Finally, as I have noted previously, the relationship between the TARDIS crew members has now been established by the previous three stories, and this allows individual supporting characters to really shine in Doctor Who for the first time. 

‘Marco Polo’ has four major guest characters of note: Marco Polo, Tegana, Ping-Cho, and Kublai Khan. Polo himself is a superb character, essential noble and seemingly keen to gain the friendship of the travelers, for whom he develops respect, but unable to fully do this due to his theft of the TARDIS. Desperate to return home to Venice, he insists on presenting the ship to the Khan to try and negotiate his freedom from service, but in doing so he denies it to the Doctor and his friends. His resolve prevents him from relenting and indeed he does present the TARDIS to the Khan, but he struggles with his conscience throughout, knowing that he has acted unjustly. The problem lies partly with the fact that he doesn’t understand the TARDIS – he believes it is a caravan that flies, but doesn’t understand just how advanced it is, assuming that the Doctor can build a new one and offering to grant the travelers safe passage home. It is this plot device that keeps the Doctor and friends on Cathay, since Polo manages to separate them from the TARDIS as effectively as any lost fluid link, and it makes their troubles greater in many ways В– unable to convey their urgency to Polo, they make frequent attempts to regain the ship, refusing to give Polo, who is otherwise well-disposed towards them, their word that they will not make further such attempts. This places them in a quandary when it becomes clear that Tegana is not all he seems, since Polo cannot fully trust them and is more inclined to believe TeganaВ’s accounts whenever they accuse him of mischief. Ultimately though, Polo returns the TARDIS key to the Doctor in the court of Kublai Khan, during the confusion after Tegana’s defeat. Ian has by this point tried to tell him the whole truth about the TARDIS, to which Polo replies that he if believed Ian he would give them the key back, realizing that the travelers could find no other way home. After the travelers are instrumental in Tegana’s defeat, Polo finally realises that Ian was telling the truth, and gives the Doctor the key beneath the Khan’s very nose; in a story concerned with the theme of going home (the Doctor and his companions, Polo, and Ping-Cho are all motivated by a desire to do so) Polo realises that, even if the Khan will not let him return home to Venice, then at least the travelers can go home. 

Tegana is the first real single villain in Doctor Who – the Daleks are a race of monsters, and Kal and Za’s struggle for leadership and survival is hardly the same as the sort of scheming villain that will recur in Doctor Who. The Warlord Tegana is an excellent villain, cold and ruthless, but cunning enough to hide his true intent (to kill the Khan in the name of his own Lord, Noghai) from Polo at least. Even before we learn of this, he is established as a threat – when the travelers first encounter Polo’s party, it is Tegana that they meet and his is keen to kill these supposed “evil spirits”. Polo saves them, but Tegana threatens them at every turn, responsible as he is for all the various ills that befall PoloВ’s caravan. Derren Nesbitt brings great presence to Tegana, who is a softly spoken, commanding character; he easily convinces Polo that he, and not the travelers, is lying when they try to accuse him of villainy on several occasions, and he convinces Polo to let him ride back for Ian and Ping-Cho, both of whom he intends to kill, despite the TARDIS crew’s and Ping-Cho’s warnings that he is up to something. Tegana is also quick to improvise to cover his actions, casually explaining that he was delayed at the oasis by bandits and easily fending off any suspicions. He is ruthless too, prepared to kill even Ping-Cho, since she is in his way. He also unhesitatingly dispatches his allies, including Acomat, when the need to maintain secrecy arises. Presumably he is also very dedicated, given that he could not reasonably expect to stay alive for long after completing his mission. His penultimate encounter with Polo, when he casually and easily ruins Polo’s hopes of the Khan letting him return to Venice, shows him swiftly discarding his faГ§ade in order to get the Khan alone, at which point he tries his assassination attempt. When Polo out-fights and disarms him, rather than answer to the Khan, he almost definitely commits suicide, impaling himself on a sword – a fitting end for one of Doctor Who’s earliest villains.

Ping-Cho’s importance stems mainly from her friendship with Susan, which draws her to aid the travelers, partly due to their sympathy at her plight – she is being forced to marry a man old enough to be her grandfather. Like the TARDIS crew and Polo, she is keen to return home, but simply to afford marriage – once her husband to be dies, she happily remains in the Khan’s court. It is interesting to speculate that this is also in part due to the influence of Susan’s tales of her travels, which might well have encouraged Ping-Cho to experience the thrills on offer at the court of Kublai Khan. The Khan himself is the fourth guest character of particular note, due largely to his relationship with the Doctor. The two old men, one crippled by gout and the other with a bad back, riding to Peking in the Khan’s state caravan and playing backgammon provide one of the most memorable parts of ‘Marco Polo’ and also demonstrate the first stirrings of comedy in Doctor Who, something which Hartnell had extensive experience of in his previous career and which he is capable of excelling at later in Doctor Who. The Doctor’s first meeting with the Khan, as he reluctantly attempts to kow-tow and his howls of pain prompt the equally-pained Khan to question whether he is being mocked, are played purely for laughs. The later backgammon scenes are also witty, with the Doctor winning an absurdity of prizes but failing to win back the TARDIS – the Khan however tells Polo after the travelers have escaped Peking that he would have won it back at some point anyway. The details make the Khan’s character – he’s the most powerful man in Cathay, but he’s a gout-ridden old man who is henpecked by his wife and is a self-proclaimed bureaucrat. Nevertheless, when facing death at the hands of Tegana, he seems to face it defiantly (as far as I can tell from the recon) and once saved by Polo he coldly informs Tegana that those who oppose him must be humbled and that Tegana must be put to death; interestingly though, he says this in the same way that he says Noglai must be humbled for rising against him, by enforcing harsh conditions of peace. On neither occasion does he seem motivated by revenge as such, but rather by a need to maintain order, suggesting perhaps why he is so well-respected by even the Venetian Polo.

One other interesting thing I realized about watching ‘Marco Polo’ stems from foreknowledge of ‘The Aztecs’ – despite being in a period of history that Ian and Barbara know of from history books, the Doctor at no point that we see warns them not to interfere. Despite this, the TARDIS crew is directly responsible for saving PoloВ’s caravan on two separate occasions, suggesting that had they not been present Kublai Khan would have died at Tegana’s hand. It is possible that the Doctor does not mention this because he does not consider it interference if the course of history as he knows it is maintained, however accidentally; on the other hand, it is interesting to speculate that if history originally ran differently and Noglai came to power, but the Doctor and his companions inadvertently changed its course. Probably not, but the idea did intrigue me. 

Finally, ‘Marco Polo’ owes its legendary reputation in large part to its sets and costumes. Thanks to the recon, we can at least see these even though no clips survive and they are certainly impressive. Although nearly all of the action on screen takes place at way stations and camps due to the lack of location filming which would have perhaps allowed conversations on horseback, the use of Polo’s voice-over and illustrated maps of the journey manage to convey the sense that the Doctor and his companions have been traveling for weeks, which of course is the intention. It works well in creating the illusion of a journey despite the fact that really ‘Marco Polo’ is filmed on only a few sets with no actual traveling on screen. Overall, ‘Marco Polo’ is well deserving of its classic status.

Rather like ‘Galaxy 4’, ‘The Macra Terror’ is something of a forgotten gem, a well-written little story that tends to be forgotten amongst the extant stories, or the missing stories featuring classic monsters such as the Daleks and the Cybermen. Since I first got the soundtrack when it was released on cassette during the early nineties, I’ve come to appreciate it more and more, but on listening to it again as part of the series as a whole I’ve just decided that it is in fact a work of genius and a truly marvellous Doctor Who story. 

‘The Macra Terror’ has several things going for it. First of all, the basic plot is approached in a suitably novel way; the Macra have infiltrated and enslaved a human colony, but in such a way that most of the colonists are largely under the impression that the colony is perfect and that life couldn’t get any better. The entire indoctrination and propaganda subplot works to great effect from the start; when the Doctor and his friends arrive they are treated as honoured guests and invited to enjoy the holiday camp atmosphere of the colony to its fullest, offered massages, hair care, and general luxury. However, it soon becomes clear to the viewer that this warm and fuzzy surface has more sinister undercurrents; Ola mentions that anyone who breaks the colony curfew and ventures outside at night will be killed, which is rather at odds with the general air of relaxation and happiness, and the vacuous and nauseating “happy to work” broadcasts from Control become increasingly insistent and gradually more intimidating, hinting that anyone who refuses to work for the benefit of the colony as a whole (or as it transpires, the Macra) will not merely be prevented from reaping the rewards this seemingly cooperative society offers, but will actively be punished. And this is all just in episode one. It soon becomes evident of course that the colonists are being brainwashed and are indeed “happy to work” because they are effectively being drugged and hypnotized whilst they sleep every night. Even more disturbingly, some of them are vaguely aware of what is really going on, but do not resist. The Pilot seems unsurprised by the Doctor’s revelation that his quarters contain the brainwashing equipment (although he does seem to be in denial), and continually refuses to believe the Doctor, Polly or Medok’s claims about the monsters at large amongst them until he actually sees the Macra in Control in episode four. Ola is even more willing to obey Control despite being seemingly aware of the Macra from at least the beginning of episode two, since he has power within the current status quo. But they clearly know about the Macra, as the scene in which Control hysterically screams “There are no such things as Macra!” makes clear – significantly, it is only when Control denies the existence of the creatures that we even learn what they are called. The entire metaphorical sugarcoated pill of the colony’s true nature is superbly conveyed. Even in the mines, where “unhappy” colonists are literally worked to death, the supervisors and the Pilot manage to convince themselves that the workers deserve their fate. Part of the success of this story is due to the acting of the guest cast, who are uniformly excellent, especially the ever-reliable Peter Jeffrey as the Pilot, Gertan Klauber as Ola, and Terence Lodge as Medok. The Pilot and Ola work well because they show different facets of authority; both work for a totalitarian regime, but whilst the Pilot seems to genuinely care for the well-being of the colonists, and eventually rebels against Control when he discovers that giant crabs are actually in charge, Ola is instead on a power trip and enjoys his position because he gets to enforce the rules. He takes obvious malicious glee in dealing with first Medok and later the Doctor and his companions. Medok, the sole voice of dissent in the colony (at least as far as the viewer is concerned, although it is made clear that he had predecessors), is excellently portrayed and is Lodge acts with maximum intensity from the start; his cry of “have fun while you can before they crawl all over you!” manages to be genuinely disturbing rather than daft and over-the-top, and Medok maintains this frantic edge throughout. He knows perfectly well that he isn’t mad, but eventually changes from desperately trying to convince the other colonists that monsters roam at night to bitterly accepting that they don’t want to know after Ola captures him and the Doctor at the start of episode two. 

‘The Macra Terror’ also benefits from the fact that it is the only television Doctor Who story to make effective use of this TARDIS crew. For the first and last time, good use is made of both Ben and Jamie in the same story, in addition to Polly and the Doctor. Because Ben succumbs to the colony’s brainwashing, he betrays his friends for what he briefly sees as the good of the many, allowing Jamie to take over the main action role. But Ben benefits from this himself, as he finds himself torn between his indoctrinated need to obey the rules of the colony without question, and his loyalty to his friends. This comes to the fore in episode two, when he risks his life to save Polly from the Macra, but later vehemently denies the existence of such creatures, accepting the colony line that “there are no such things as Macra!” in spite of the evidence of his own eyes. Ultimately of course his true nature reasserts itself and it is Ben who finally destroys the insidious threat of the Macra. Jamie meanwhile takes over Ben’s usual role with aplomb, and is the subject of episode three’s cliffhanger as he finds himself caught between two Macra. Rather than panicking, he demonstrates his resourcefulness and courage to the greatest effect thus since ‘The Highlanders’ and determinedly tries to escape. Later, when he finds himself confronted by dancers, he quickly assesses the situation and accepts the unwittingly offered cover story of being a dancer, demonstrating his ability to think on his feet, which he hasn’t any opportunity to do until this point. Polly too is used effectively; the established pairing of her and Ben allows her to challenge her friend’s newly enforced beliefs about the colony without the antagonism that this produces in Jamie. She also gets to scream “Macra! They’re in Control!!” rather effectively at the end of episode two. But it is Troughton who really steals the show. 

For the first time since ‘The Power of the Daleks’ (in which he seemingly knew that he would encounter Daleks on Vulcan), the Second Doctor gets proactive. Armed with foreknowledge of giant clawed monsters thanks to the rather gimmicky use of the time scanner at the end of ‘The Moonbase’, the Doctor sets about searching for the hidden menace that lurks within the colony from the outset and clearly takes delight in doing so. I noted when I reviewed ‘The Highlanders’ that having been presented with the problem of rescuing his friends, he seemed to be enjoying himself, and I also get that impression from ‘The Macra Terror’. Throughout the story, he searches for the truth, but more than that he tries to encourage others to do the same. When he says “bad laws were made to be broken”, I don’t think that he’s advocating anarchy per se (as some have suggested), but rather he’s railing against blind obedience of rules and advocating independent thought. In fact he says as much to Polly whilst checking to see if he has been too late to prevent her brainwashing. The Doctor is basically at his best throughout ‘The Macra Terror’, whether he’s proudly confessing to having sabotaged the conditioning apparatus in his companions’ rooms, or deducing the formula for controlling the gas flow so well that he smugly gives himself 10 marks out of 10 only to change this score to 11 out of 10 when the Pilot is visibly stunned by his mental agility. 

Finally, the Macra themselves are monsters in the traditional Doctor Who vein. The single Macra prop looks merely okay in the main surviving photograph, but in the surviving censor clips recently recovered, it is clearly used to rather splendid effect thanks to good lighting and direction. The concept of the Macra also works well, and although Control is essentially the chief Macra (which is white according to The Television Companion) and therefore presumably the booming voice heard throughout, no Macra is ever explicitly seen to speak; this is quite effective, since whenever anyone is menaced by one of the creatures, rather than having them gloating or explaining their plans, they are a silent menace. Clearly they are intelligent (exactly how they took over the colony in the first place is unclear, although the Doctor surmises that they came to the surface of the planet and found the colony there, implying that they are native to the planet and originally dwelt underground, which would make sense given their dependence on the gas found beneath the colony), but by keeping them largely silent, their intelligence seems more alien than it perhaps would if they directly spoke to anyone. 

In summary, ‘The Macra Terror’ is, at least in my opinion, a truly underrated classic and one deserving of a much greater reputation than it currently enjoys.