Remember how after making promising progress in terms of their narrative trajectory, recent modern Doctor Who serials such as “Night Terrors” and “Into the Dalek” somehow managed to squander their potential come their respective final acts by making sudden forays into overly sappy territory (if this reviewer never has to endure the sight of the Doctor teaching ex-Kaleds the beauty of the stars again, it’ll be too soon)? Well, much as The Brood of Erys, the second outing in Big Finish’s January – March 2014 trilogy of Sixth Doctor and Flip storylines, does its utmost to maintain a consistently impressive benchmark of quality throughout its four contributory episodes, so too does the 183th chapter in the aforementioned studio’s never-ending range of Who-themed audio dramas lose its way at precisely the wrong moment, thereby threatening to ruin its audience’s perception of what might otherwise have been one of Colin Baker’s finest off-screen hours to date.

More on that momentarily, however – let’s first align our metaphorical TARDIS scanners towards Brood’s strengths, since in spite of its lacklustre denouement, the drama in question can’t possibly fail to hook its listeners during its opening three-quarters. Central to its resounding success in this respect is the pair of increasingly tight-knit travellers currently piloting their Type 42 machine through time and space; although one gets the sense nowadays that Baker’s incarnation – nor the man himself, if his recent revelatory interview with DWM was any indication – will never quite shed his reputation as the version of the Doctor who underwent one of the weakest overall runs in the show’s history, the 72-year old thespian responsible for bringing the character to life during the mid-1980s has rarely been on finer form than he is here. Channelling all of the compassion and bombast he can muster as old ‘Sixie’ and his faithful accomplice explore a sentient moon known as Erys whose emotional motivations become murkier by the second (a fascinating narrative concept which this reviewer couldn’t help but wish writer Andrew Smith had deployed before “The Doctor’s Wife” aired on BBC One in 2011, but there we are), he not only reminds Nathan Turner devotees of the merits of his era but also affords the ever-complacent yet ever-righteous hero an emotional gravity which this incarnation’s haters might have claimed was lacking during his original run.

At the same time, every accomplished – if in this case cruelly unappreciated – Doctor needs a similarly worthy assistant at his side, hence the above reference to not one but both members of the TARDIS crew. When this reviewer came to pass judgement on Antidote to Oblivion last July, Ms. Philippa Jackson (Lisa Greenwood) appeared to represent one of its only notable caveats due to the lack of much in the way of character development afforded to her by scribe Philip Martin, yet just as Matt Fitton recently showcased Flip’s potential by exploiting her fears of performing before an audience and her realisation of her ability to overcome those long-running self-doubts in “Stage Fright” – the penultimate of the four captivating tales contained within Big Finish’s newly-released boxset “The Sixth Doctor: The Last Adventure” – Smith achieves much the same feat here, adding additional layers to Jackson’s personality by having her demonstrate her raw recklessness in a valiant but nonetheless risk-laden effort to reunite herself with the Doctor come Brood’s action-packed (sometimes to the point of its own detriment, as we’ll discuss later) second half, not to mention during the numerous Hammer-riffing body horror sequences where the young adventurer finds herself forced to navigate the depths of the titular living planetoid, encountering an all manner of spectacularly-voiced secondary constructs along the way including the slimy – in every sense of the adjective – Terrill (Chris Overton), the wayward amnesiac Sarra Vanser (Nicola Sian) and best of all the hauntingly omniscient persona of Erys (Brian Shelley) himself.

Indeed, in a similar vein to how Greenwood’s ever-passionate work as Flip has been complemented (and thus strengthened) to no minor extent here by Smith’s beneficially character-led script, the latter trio of supporting cast members each thrive in their respective roles thanks to the layered dialogue that their individual constructs spout out over the course of their extensive airtime. In a weaker science-fiction audio yarn, for instance, Terrill and his band of shameless, ever-troublesome Drachee scavengers would have come off as mindless slaves created for the sole narrative purpose of serving as the frankly dull lackeys of a (mostly) physically formless antagonist, yet far from allowing this to be the case, Smith throws more than one curve-ball into the figurative mixture that ensures the Drachee have just as significant a function to fulfil in the grand scheme of events as the Doctor, Flip or their latest adversary. It’s a true thrill to be able to confirm that as a result, once Brood moves into its fourth and final 25-minute segment, all but the most apathetic of listeners are sure to empathise with every character who they’ve encountered so far, and as such to feel as if they are on tenterhooks with regards to how each construct’s arc will come to an end.

What a crying tragedy it is, then, that after three episodes’ worth of steadily rising tension and intriguingly unravelled mysteries surrounding Sarra’s curiously absent yet vital memories, Smith hurriedly injects a small armada of emotionally vapid – albeit purposefully so – enemies not unlike those described previously here as being the stuff of lacklustre sci-fi efforts so as to add in some physical dangers for his ensemble despite the fact that the psychological toils presented by Erys’ meddling with the minds of ‘Sixie’ et al were more than enough to carry Episode 4 on their own merits. Whereas the scarecrow-styled hordes introduced a little way into “Human Nature / The Family of Blood” back in 2007 at least acted as a decent metaphor for the ceaseless, meaningless slaughter committed over the course of the Great War as they were endlessly gunned down by the students unlucky enough to attend the school which was playing host to one John Smith, the so-called “mud soldiers” who elect to crop up in Brood’s closing quarter hold no such deeper moral implications, instead existing only as a rushed means through which to off one or two supporting characters so as for (Andrew, not John) Smith to rest safe in the knowledge that his serial didn’t conclude without containing a single demise of some kind. Worse still, in subsequently attempting to add some further emotional levity (perhaps realising too late his mistake in abruptly prioritising action at the last second) by lobbing in a hopelessly indulgent throwback to the First Doctor era which doesn’t receive any of the necessary moments of foreshadowing earlier on required to justify its inclusion, the playwright comes cripplingly close to offering the impression that he had little idea whatsoever as to how to call it a day.

Yet to end on such a defeatist assertion would represent an unfair manner in which to resolve this particular assessment, especially given the strength of the ground-work laid during the opening three instalments. Make no mistake, Smith at least structures proceedings in such a way that the thematic discussion of matters such as corporations attempting to lay claim to entire landscapes without any thought of the immediate (or even distant) repercussions, not to mention that of the infuriating global political bureaucracy which can often force individuals to take drastic action for their family and / or community in today’s society, scarcely ever fails to captivate, a rare accomplishment given that many dialogue-led audio pieces can often lose their way by using too much exposition to delve into such themes and not enough in the way of tangible plot developments. As was the case with “Night Terrors” and “Into the Dalek”, though, Brood will forever be remembered as coming within inches of fulfilling its commendably lofty aspirations of centralising psychological drama over action, only to lose its nerve at the last instant and in doing so rank amongst the most notable could-have-beens in Who’s history.

Finding themselves yanked across the cosmos to a human colony world, the Doctor and his travelling companion are tasked with seemingly their most mundane mission yet: rescue an innocuous young girl’s missing cat. Suffice to say that as premises for a new yarn set in the limitless realms of Doctor Who go, this initial set-up seems neither as thrilling as that of recent TV serials like 42 nor indeed as continuity-shaking as that of The Day of the Doctor, yet it’s precisely the opening scenario which scribe James Goss lays before us with his latest contribution to the show’s mythology, The Gods of Winter.

The first instalment in a four-part series of BBC Audio releases featuring Peter Capaldi’s Twelfth Doctor as well as Jenna Coleman’s Clara Oswald – although only in name, since the studio have recruited the likes of David Schofield to narrate this interlinked quartet – Gods wastes no time in establishing the central plot arc which will bind together these otherwise standalone tales, introducing the aforementioned youth known as Diana Winter as she utilises an ominous "calling card" bestowed upon the Doctor to her ancestors for use on the worst day of each family member’s life. As was the case with Professor River Song back in 2008’s Silence in the Library / Forest of the Dead, however, the increasingly antagonistic Time Lord might well feel the desire to play Michael Buble’s "Haven’t Met You Yet" through the TARDIS’ speakers, since his initial meeting with the Winters clearly hasn’t occurred for him yet (and no doubt will be held back for the final instalment’s launch this December).

Regardless, even if answers regarding precisely why Diana’s family will have such a bearing on their newfound saviour’s life in days to come are a way off, Goss provides more than enough in the way of reasons for listeners to stick around in the meantime. Much as this reviewer jested about the subdued – to say the very least – nature of the quest placed on our time-travelling protagonists’ bigger-on-the-inside doorstep above, the situation involving the colony on which Diana resides and the apparently ruthless invaders plaguing its residents quickly escalates in unexpected ways, with the TARDIS crew forced to consider the origins of the Golhearn, a race whose motivations for serving as Gods’ supposed antagonists might not be all that they seem. Rest assured that we’ve no intent of spoiling any plot details beyond those offered in the audiobook’s précis, but we’ll at least tease that jumps in time, trips to other celestial bodies and commentaries on issues such as the dangers of blind faith and corporate legalities all factor into the piece’s overarching storyline in the seamless, inspired manner which only Goss can manage (as proven by his acclaimed past work on sub-plot laden Who romps including 2007’s The Infinite Quest).

Yet although the case of Diana’s lost feline companion does give way to a more layered, compelling adventure with political undertones aplenty, those hoping that Gods’ overall stakes would simultaneously be raised in the process might come away disappointed. Certainly, later set-pieces involving space shuttle flights across planet surfaces and seemingly abandoned religious temples up the ante in terms of action, placing both the Doctor and Clara – not to mention the first known member of the Winter dynasty – in occasionally grave danger, but if anything, this audiobook’s oft-relaxed tone at times seems far more reminiscent of that of a First Doctor serial (perhaps aptly given the representational similarities between Hartnell and Capaldi’s incarnations) than of one produced since Russell T Davies took the series’ helm just ten short years ago, a trait which could well deter any listener who approached the Twelfth Doctor’s latest audio voyage hoping for an adrenaline-fuelled experience along the lines of Into the Dalek or Death in Heaven. What Gods lacks in the way of substantial threats, however, the soon-to-be released tale compensates for with a hugely intelligent structure that initially lures the audience into wondering why Big Finish didn’t take the project on as one of their Short Trips scripts given the narrative’s supposed brevity, only for Goss to then throw a spanner in the works at the episode’s halfway point which ultimately more than justifies its (approximately) 60-minute running time.

Better yet, in the form of The Night of the Doctor star Claire Higgins (better known to series veterans as the mysterious figure who resurrected the Eighth Doctor shortly before kick-starting his successor’s plunge into the Time War), Goss has scored himself a simply ideal narrator, not least thanks to Higgins’ valiant attempts to distinguish the irritable Scottish tones of Capaldi’s Doctor, the remarkably more compassionate (if infrequently reckless) voice of Coleman’s Impossible Girl as well as the ever-maturing Diana. Whereas some of the previous contributors to BBC Audio’s various audiobook versions of the New Series Adventures novels have arguably tried and failed to capture the essence of either the programme’s current on-screen lead actors or indeed the one-off supporting players who’ve never featured on the TV show, there’s little point in denying that the first of the four thespians enlisted to bring the Winter escapades to life using their only vocal chords excels in both respects, effortlessly holding her audience’s attention as a result during both Gods’ (rare but appreciated) high-octane sequences and its calmer moments.

For a Who storyline which could quite easily have left its listeners baffled as to why BBC Audio didn’t simply transform it into a Sarah Jane Adventures novelisation, then, The Gods of Winter achieves a truly commendable number of feats, utilising its lack of action set-pieces as a means by which to tell a politically (and indeed philosophically) engaging yarn while bringing a hugely accomplished narrator into the fold so as to ensure that its audience never fails to remain captivated by proceedings. As with just about any tale intended largely to set up a broader plot arc, one could reasonably claim that the lack of genuine closure regarding the origins of Diana’s calling card robs Gods of a place amongst the higher echelons of off-screen Who, yet even if that’s indeed the case, this reviewer would gladly wager that the vast majority of those wise enough to pick Goss’ supremely accomplished latest work up will be too busy lapping up its myriad merits (not to mention attempting to predict how the story of Diana’s family tree might develop come October 1st in George Mann’s The House of Winter) to even begin to notice such incredibly minor shortcomings.
 

Doctor Who has had many proud milestones throughout its history, not least its 50th anniversary celebrations two years ago. Last year, Big Finish Productions also celebrated 15 years of producing licensed Doctor Who dramas with its Worlds of Doctor Who release. This year, BF has decided to mark its 200th release in the Doctor Who “main range” with its “locum Doctors” trilogy. It’s a milestone that’s pretty dubious, to be honest, considering BF’s Doctor Who output in the last 15 years truly exceeds 200 releases and does not encompass the Fourth Doctor adventures (with Tom Baker) or the Eighth Doctor adventures (Paul McGann’s Doctor started in the “main range” before getting his own series). By my estimation, coupled with various spin-offs, BF is really celebrating something like its “500th” release, not its 200th! But hey, any excuse for a party ...

The “locum Doctors” concept has already seen the Seventh and Sixth Doctors involuntarily replace the Third and Second Doctors in the 198th and 199th releases The Defectors and Last of the Cybermen. In both tales, each Doctor found himself forced to resolve the situation by directly contradicting the position of his predecessor and by extension threatening to unravel his entire time stream. In The Secret History, the Fifth Doctor (Peter Davison) finds himself transplanted into the First Doctor’s era and reunited with companions Steven Taylor (Peter Purves) and Vicki (Maureen O’Brien) – just in time for the TARDIS to materialise in Italy in the sixth century AD as Byzantine general Belisarius (Giles Watling) begins his conquest of Italy.

Just as The Defectors and Last of the Cybermen were homages to the Pertwee and Troughton eras, so The Secret History also honours the Hartnell era through an historical tale that sees the TARDIS crew interact with characters based on personalities from that period, eg Belisarius, his secretary Procopius (played by Tony Millan, whom the Doctor recognises as the author of the tomes The Wars of Justinian and The Secret History) and the Byzantine Emperor Justinian and his wife Theodora (Tim Wallers and Sarah Woodward). Indeed, the story starts with the tried and trusted Hartnell era formula of the Doctor and his companions arriving in a period setting and then being separated and forced to participate in events against their will. In this instance, Steven is taken prisoner by the invading Roman forces and transported from Italy to the Roman capital Constantinople. The Fifth Doctor and Vicki have little choice but to follow and by the time they arrive in Constantinople, the Doctor is arrested by Justinian on suspicion of being a Persian spy. He subsequently spends much of the second episode in prison and is largely absent from events (not unlike the First Doctor who could also disappear from the odd TV episode whenever William Hartnell took a week’s holiday!). This leaves Vicki to delve deeper into the mystery while Steven is recruited at the Hippodrome – first as a stablehand, then as a painter and finally as a driver in the local chariot races between the (historically accurate) rival green and blue teams as the regular drivers are struck down by the first bout of the Justinian plague. Vicki is particularly a great foil for the brazen Belisarius (“What d’you mean ‘we’?” he blurts out when he realises Vicki has invited herself to accompany him to an audience with the Emperor), continuing a humorous trait of the Hartnell historical – the Doctor and his companions would often provide much needed light relief amongst some of the earnest and unrefined figures they encountered in period settings. Writer Eddie Robson cleverly echoes the same approach.

However, it is from the second episode on that the serial really strays from the traditional Hartnell pure historical tale. Indeed, The Secret History becomes a SF story with a period setting as extra-terrestrial entities not unlike the modern TV series’ Weeping Angels seize control of Justinian and Theodora (and by extension the Roman Empire) and an old adversary of the Doctor’s under the alias of Quintus, aided by his time-sensitive assistant Sophia (Lysette Anthony), finally plays his hand and manoeuvres the Doctor into a trap that imperils his very existence. The final episode could not be more unpredictable from the first three as history (at least as the Doctor knows it) assumes an entirely different course.

The main story aside, Robson is excellent at portraying the politics of the Byzantine era, along with the exuberant, flamboyant personalities that inhabit it. Wallers’ Justinian is pompous, sleazy and paranoid while Watling’s Belisarius is ostentatious, authoritative, dutiful and dry-humoured, making them perfect rivals for the future of the Roman Empire. Woodward’s Theodora is also haughty, with some cutting dialogue for her husband, whom she clearly enjoys antagonising. Millan’s Procopious is unsurprisingly scholarly, a little cowardly and in Belisarius’ words “a complex chap”, given his misogynistic views of the Empress (“Her soul is a cesspool!”) and of women in general (“No man should trust himself around beautiful women!”). Millan also deserves another mention for his gruff, rough diamond performance as Hippodrome proprietor Yazid who is such a complete contrast to the quietly spoken Procopious that it is easy to assume the parts were taken up by separate actors.

Maureen O’Brien and Peter Purves reprise the roles of Vicki and Steven almost effortlessly, as if 50 years haven’t elapsed at all since their time in the TV series. Both actors obviously put a lot of youthful inflection into their performances to convey their younger characters but they never sound too old or unconvincing. Peter Davison, of course, continues to be as excellent as ever as the more “fretful” (in Vicki’s words) Fifth Doctor, displaying the vulnerability that was typical of the character in his era on television and far less of the assuredness and arrogance of his first incarnation. Davison’s expression of fear when his Doctor is presented with a solution that could save a man’s life (and by extension change the course of history altogether) is particularly noteworthy:

Belisarius: Doctor, is he saying that you could save this man’s life?

The Doctor: I’m afraid so.

Belisarius: Afraid? What are you afraid of?

The Doctor: Everything. Don’t you see? It would change everything.

Of course, it is precisely the Fifth Doctor’s character traits that the villainous Quintus exploits to spring his trap. The villain’s true identity (I hesitate to even name the actor who plays the part for fear of giving the character away) will either be a pleasant surprise or an unsatisfactory revelation to the listener (in fact, my suspicions about who might be behind the Doctor’s translocations throughout his time stream proved correct before I even listened to The Secret History, and the cowled figure on the cover sleeve – even though there’s no implication in the story that the villain actually wears a cowl! – did little to allay that suspicion). To this reviewer, it’s not exactly a bold revelation and the villain concerned is wearing a bit thin but nevertheless the actor who plays him (a renowned British comedian that we all would have loved on TV as we grew up in the 1970s – well, at least in Britain and Australia), delivers an excellent performance, offering the right balance of humour, charm, mischief and fervour.

While this trilogy fits with Quintus’ modus operandi (he even gets to fulfil every Doctor Who fan’s wish in the final episode!), I find it deliciously ironic that, given this is the “official” 200th release in the Doctor Who “main range”, the antagonist is driven to usurp and destroy the Doctor out of revenge for events that actually occurred in serials that are not counted by BF as part of the “main range”. Again, this illustrates to me that for all the pomp and ceremony, The Secret History is no more remarkable than any other BF Doctor Who release. “Main range” or not, it’s all Doctor Who!

That said, The Secret History is an entertaining and at times fun tale, with the right blend of drama and humour befitting a Hartnell era historical, and as long-time BF listeners can expect, excellent sound production values and performances. You really do believe that you could be accompanying the Doctor, Steven and Vicki around sixth century Ravenna and Constantinople, and the incidental music and sound effects, including the TARDIS interior noises, also create the impression that you are experiencing a “lost” Hartnell era tale, albeit with Peter Davison as the Doctor!

However, when compared to the rest of the “locum Doctors” trilogy, The Secret History is the weakest link (with The Defectors the highlight of the bunch). This is partly because unlike The Defectors or Last of the Cybermen, The Secret History ceases to be a story in its own right about half-way through and becomes a closing, convoluted chapter to a broader saga. It’s also dependent on whether you feel you get the pay-off that the trilogy promises – it doesn’t necessarily convince nor does the villain impress either, despite the threat he poses to our hero’s survival.

 

 

 

Now back safe and sound in their own era - foggy and full of questionable justice it may be - Jago and Litefoot do not have much respite before another series of adventures comes knocking on their respective doors.

The pattern opted for by the team of Justin Richards, David Richardson and Lisa Bowerman  is one where each story is linked, but the degree of which varies. Of the four, the second story would need the least amount of rewriting to stand completely on its own. The opener sets up some short-term and long-term consequences for the set but mostly wraps up the immediate loose ends with elegance. Finally the third and fourth escapades are very closely linked to one another and best appreciated with some awareness not only of the character of the Colonel (Geoffrey Whitehead) but also some basic understanding of Torchwood. Yes, the organisation that was teased out by Russell T Davies, and got explicit mentions of being set up by Queen Victoria in Tooth And Claw, plays its subtle role in these stories. This major continuity decision helps makes what is by now a well established series of original audio have a slight re-calibration in its mission parameters.

Our regulars are as good as ever, and  none the worse for having been fish out of water in the very enjoyable Series Five. We have a fine collection of both one-off and recurring virtuous aiders and abetters, and dastardly immoral riffraff  - sometimes the listener being sneakily wrong footed as to which camp the pathologist and theatre owner should assign those people they associate with.

The Skeleton Quay is a thoroughly evocative and well-plotted story to remind us of the many pluses a seaside setting and a mystery have to play in the audio medium. With Jago and Litefoot separated relatively early on, they must to try and deduce just what is actually going on around them, and what may be the cause of all the unrest. The dramatic hooks sink in almost without one knowing it. Lisa Bowerman makes her team put a wholehearted effort and that reaps fine rewards: good sound effects and moody original music that is right on the money.

Return of The Repressed takes some of the consequences for Jago from the previous romp and goes in some very unexpected directions. Now, it is always a good thing when the producers decide to shake a formula up a bit and try out some new things. I just cannot quite decide whether this crosses the fine line between over-stuffed, and brimming with one striking idea after another. This is certainly a character piece, and the conventional beginning middle and end do sometimes feel rather muddled together. The turn of Adrian Lukis as renowned psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud is a much more successful portrayal of a foreigner with a heavy accent than some from previous plays. Despite being framed in a comic manner, the written character also has enough meat on the bones to not just be a stereotype. The main female role is very well done, and her exact status being revealed and its significance for our intrepid duo is a great twist. The bookends of a musical do evoke the  splendid fourth episode of The Talons Of Weng Chiang (which of course was just one of six triumphs).

And after two enjoyable stories, this series really kicks into gear for the second batch. Military Intelligence is very focused in delivering drama and suspense, and also feels like it has more to say about Victorian society and the British national identity. The Colonel's more fleeting role in the series opener is considerably expanded here (although he was perhaps carelessly forgotten about in the second story). Now we start to see that he is perhaps not all he seemed, and the way Jago  and Litefoot respond to this new situation is of major interest. The different tracks come and go on for the listener at a rollicking pace, and there is a great mechanical monster involved which needs little effort to visualise. Great reactions, spoken descriptions and sound effects all add up to a strong climax, and yet the main story has only got to the halfway point; seguing with the arrest of Litefoot for a most serious offence.

Hence, The Trial Of George Litefoot. No dawdling here. One exciting development follows hot on the heels of the current one. The victim of murder, which Litefoot is accused of being solely responsible for, will surprise many. But that is one of a number of well-thought-out twists. Courtroom scenes are played out nice and snappily, and the entitlement of George as he languishes in a jail cell wanting better provisions is achieved so as to make him flawed but very human and relatable. Whitehead's Colonel is contemptible but has that touch of class at the same time to make him the type of Victorian villain akin to the original Master. Other wicked collaborators also come off as well-conceived and make the stakes feel suitably high. In the end our duo manage to show the right ingenuity to foil an assassination plot, and yet they still pay a heavy price. The whole cosiness of being home is again eschewed, and in such a manner that our heroes may never quite have the affluence and security they worked so hard for again. Series Seven will be very interesting listening..  

 

Bonus Material:

Once again Big Finish pays some nice airtime to showing just how fun a working environment is enjoyed both by the old established guard, and anyone else joining in for the first time. Some newcomers to sci-fi itself share their excitement at being signed up. The interview material is very organic and barely feels like the artifice of various questions has been needed in the first place. Having Francesca Hunt involved as the mysterious Camilla Trevlyan was a good decision; it is pleasant to hear the sister of India Fisher enthuse on joining the considerable Big Finish Family. Another such connection comes in the form of Justin Richard's nephew Howard Carter, who gives some very sparky information on juggling sound design and music duties. I previously praised Lukis as Freud, and the chance to ascertain his approach to portraying a real life legend is very enjoyable to gain insight from. There is also a fascinating explanation from Lisa Bowerman on how she (and the others of the creative team) make the effort to try different styles and areas to focus on story-by-story. A final note to end on? For those rushing to jot down the many odd words that Henry Jago opts for in order to try and convey gravitas, there comes a little bit of insight into the process on choosing material that makes even expert crossword-players shudder at.

Following on from last year’s Volume 1, this boxset follows a similar format with long-running Big Finish regular Lisa Bowerman as the eponymous archaeologist Bernice, who is once again reunited with her former travelling companions, the Doctor and Ace, in rather surprising circumstances. Like last time, there is a effectively a single story running throughout the four adventures which make up Volume 2 but this time around, the stakes are much higher as we are presented with a clear threat from the very beginning. As the box set’s title reveals this series features the long-awaited return of Gabriel Woolf, reprising his well-known television role as Sutekh the Destroyer from the 1975 story Pyramids of Mars.

The Pyramid of Sutekh finds Bernice reunited with the Doctor in less than pleasant circumstances as the long-lost tomb of the Osiran Sutekh has been uncovered. Bernice must try to save the Doctor and prevent Sutekh’s attempts at self-revival. Along the way she is joined by a mummy with recognisable voice which is not credited so I shall also maintain the pleasant surprise, except to say that it will be very familiar to followers of Benny’s solo adventures. It is notable that the Doctor is given a more prominent role to play as there was some criticism that the Doctor and Ace were only featured peripherally in the last year’s boxset and it is great fun to hear Sylvester McCoy utter one of the most infamous lines in the history of Doctor Who.

The Vaults of Osiris finds Benny reunited with Ace, this time on present Earth as they attempt to make sense of recent events and discover the means to prevent the seemingly unstoppable triumph of Sutekh. This is a fun romp with some nice suprises, even allowing for some occasional lapses from the Big Finish school of dodgy foreign accents.

The Eye of Horus sees Benny once more reunited with the Doctor, who is very much not himself in this rather unusual episode. Set in an apparent forgotten period of Ancient Egyptian history this episode feels a little uneven and a little too comedic. It is however saved by the sinister presence of Woolf as Sutekh.

This set culminates in The Tears of Isis. This is another slightly unusual story which finds our protagonists witnessing the end of the world and the ultimate triumph of Sutekh. However, this is the virgin New Adventures universe and even at the darkest of times, the Doctor is not to be underestimated. Suffice to say there are some neat twists in the story’s concluding scenes which lead to a satisfying conclusion and the final confrontation between McCoy’s “Little man” and the Woolf’s deliciously evil Sutekh make for an enjoyable listen.

Overall, a very enjoyable set of stories if at times rather whimsical. The highlight is definitely hearing Woolf give further voice to Sutekh, but fans of Pyramids of Mars may be left wanting a sequel that is more in keeping with the gothic horror style of Season 13.
 

This First Doctor historical was amongst the many early Doctor Who tales to be wiped by the BBC, at a time when home video releases were not yet introduced. Fortunately, as with all the other 'lost' stories, a soundtrack copy was retained and this story was the first of a wave of audio CD releases of various First and Second Doctor stories at the turn of the century.

Original viewers of all ages saw a sophisticated but non-preachy historical drama. The Doctor quickly leaves Steven to manage on his own in 1572 Paris; full of political turmoil between the Catholic and Huguenot religious groups. The Catholic Abbot of Amboise catches Steven's eye, and soon this loyal companion wonders if his older friend is playing a very risky game of impersonation. A young girl called Anne Chaplet soon needs Steven's help as she flees the Abbot and attempts to warn the Huguenots of a deadly conspiracy. But history tells of the inevitable Massacre of St Bartholomew's Day, and time cannot be rewritten despite the sheer pointlessness of the violence that ensued...

            A great cast was involved, many going on to be in later colour stories which all are now available. Examples include: The Deadly Assassin's Eric Chitty as Preslyn, Warriors' Gate's David Weston as Nicholas Muss and Arc of Infinity's Leonard Sachs as Admiral De Coligny. There is even a turn from Eric Thompson, father of the world-famous Emma. Also director Paddy Russell debuted here, and was behind later notable stories for the Third and Fourth Doctors.

 

The novelisation was published in the summer of 1987, and saw credited writer John Lucarotti bring to novel form the original scripts he created, after a number of amendments by script-editor Donald Tosh. Ultimately Tosh rewrote the story to be a very different one, but only received a co-author credit in the final episode.

Why Lucarotti did not approve of the final version is of real interest. Upon being promised a third historical story from initial showrunner Verity Lambert, Lucarotti then found the new team of John Wiles and Tosh to be rather less harmonious with his vision of Doctor Who. A rather darker show was being established, with grim endings such as the fate of the Drahvins, the fall of Troy, and the many tragedies in The Dalek Masterplan. This perhaps was for the best as the fledgling Saturday tea-time show made its case for continued existence, long before it was famous globally.  

Even after two other story rejections, and finally getting a green light on using the Huguenot massacre as the backdrop there were still problems. William Hartnell was getting more difficult to work with and had poor health, and the then-showrunners wanted to try and remove him as lead on the show. Lucarotti's proposal of a double role for Hartnell as Abbot and Doctor was not in line with this intended path. This reputable TV writer was ultimately so dismayed that he wanted no on-screen credit. He did not get that wish but was paid for all four instalments and many years later retained the right to adapt his intended story for book form.  The novelisation was enjoyed by both fans and general readers alike and now gets further exposure today as a CD/ Internet Download.

 

This story significantly manages to intertwine historical fact with fiction. Charles IX and Preslyn are real-life figures who are used for plot purpose; the former being a weak willed monarch under the thrall of his mother Catherine De Medici, the latter being a little paranoid but nonetheless a notable scientist of his time.

Notably unique to the novelisation is the framing device of Time Lords putting the Doctor through either an inquiry or another trial, but which future Doctor is not made too clear. More focus emerges as to the morality of his interference in events, and perhaps his eventual abandonment of the various people he meets to their fates.

The plot differs increasingly from Tosh's version after the initial sections that resemble Episode One. The key character difference is the Doctor is far more involved throughout. In theory William Hartnell would have shown his full range and poise (and as much as terrific glimmers of the Abbot did make it to screen).

As we know though, the production team were against the lead, and maybe his ill health would have also been too much also.

The paramount goal for our regulars is to survive, and it is particularly urgent, but we also care for the various Huguenots who try their best to fight a growing tide. Even  some sense of the pressure on the Catholics is generated by Lucarotti, though their ends certainly never justify their means. 

Peter Purves continues to impress, after my prior sampling of his efforts for Big Finish. He uses his theatre roots, which involved considerable variety from one play to the next, to solidly portray a host of players in the story, along with their myriad characteristics. The Doctor's voice again is done well, conveying the essence of Hartnell's rather complex interpretation. What music we do get generates a heightened atmosphere, and there are fine sound effects such as the gallops of hooves, crowd noise and other effects to signify action moments.

Our narrator only stumbles when attempting rage in voices that are markedly different  to Steven. Also while his Anne is passable, there is never any real doubt of this being a male imitation of a female, but then very few can overcome this downside of the solo-contributor format.

 

All the same, we are afforded a chance to experience the book's enticing prose, and how it plays to the mediums' best strengths. There is plenty of Steven's immediate perspective. How this man from the future uses his wits over any of his inbuilt skills or training is gripping, as is his role in partially defanging the Catholic conspiracy. Most fans agree that The Massacre is Steven's peak during his time as a companion.

Along with sterling heroes we need a good set of villains. The Catholics who ultimately win are to be respected as much as reviled. Simon Duvall is built up in the most notable antagonist, demonstrating a suave nature along with having a strong plan. How the Abbot and Duvall's fates are intertwined, not least due to the Doctor's ingenuity, is a payoff that works handsomely.

Of more trivial interest, we are introduced to some minor characters who were not retained for the final TV version, e.g. the bumbling locksmith who understandably is foiled by the TARDIS' secure door.

 

It is to be commended how Lucarotti has no easy answers and does not assume a moral highground. Even the characters we most empathise with such as Gaston, Lerans and Muss are not angelic by any means. The charismatic Admiral De Coligny is helped during the timeframe of Steven and the Doctor being around, but upon their departure he receives no better a fate than assassination. Such is the inevitable course of history. And had he been spared then he likely would have implemented methods little better than his religious enemies.

Praiseworthy also is the 'identical Doctor' aspect, which was repeated in other ways  throughout the TV show's long history. In this novel version the way both the Doctor and the Abbot show initiative and smarts is more exciting than the somewhat clumsy manner the TV Abbot saw himself into trouble. The Doctor is of course the wiser and sharper of the two, and having one of this religious zealot's own allies be manipulated into his downfall is most enjoyable.

A small flaw perhaps, but one most classic Who stories are guilty of, is the sheer lack of notable female characters in comparison to male. At least we do have two solid roles in the form of the ruthless Queen Mother and the young, vulnerable but brave Anne Chaplet.

The manner of how the Doctor manages to avoid the wrath Catherine shows the First Doctor at his typical smart best, and is especially exciting knowing he must convince as a man who only resembles him in appearance. Meanwhile the Steven-Anne dynamic is used very well to evoke real concern for the many innocents caught up between the scheming factions. It is one of the very first instances of a 'pseudo companion', i.e. who may qualify but circumstances finally say otherwise.

 

Catacombs has been a great trope over the years for Who, and they are sadly jettisoned in the TV equivalent. Along with the use of a crypt under Notre Dame, this story really has much to offer in terms of atmosphere.

Indeed, there is much suspense and intrigue, and yet the final sections do lack a touch of the all pervading sense of doom of Tosh's work. The debate between Steven and his mysterious mentor over what they can or cannot do regarding historical events is far less confrontational.

Tosh's rewrite saw potential descendant of Anne, Dodo, take up what initially appeared to be the Frenchwoman's place abroad the TARDIS. Yet I personally prefer the way that Anne is safe thanks to the Doctor's efforts. albeit with the only fleeting reference to Dodo in the epilogue Lucarotti opts for. At the same time, it is a shame that the famous soliloquy by Hartnell is nowhere to be found. It is a key moment  of Who folklore and wonderfully recreated by David Bradley in An Adventure In Time And Space from autumn 2013.

 

This is perhaps not a story to be digested in one sitting as the previous off-air soundtrack can be. It is very ambitious and intricate, and requires a lot of close attention from the listener, but is more than worth it as the foundations are rock solid. Whilst reflecting the deliberate pace of the Hartnell era, it never feels tedious. This pivotal historical is as relevant to our society and its political and religious unrest as it was back when first pieced together under the most fraught of circumstances.