Ever hoped for a Doctor Who serial which takes two entire episodes to actually get to the point, utilising every delaying tactic imaginable – including some heinously contrived cliff-hangers which rival “The Trial of a Time Lord” for their absurdity – as its protagonists essentially aimlessly wander about until the storyline’s halfway point? If so, then look no further than The Warehouse. Whilst this reviewer isn’t going to try and put forward the claim that the show hasn’t taken its good time to build narrative momentum in the past – just look at “The Ark in Space” Part 1 or indeed most of the New Series’ twelfth episodes – rare has been the occasion when a storyline’s overall set-up has taken so long and been executed quite so monotonously as is the case here. Thankfully, as has virtually always been the case with Big Finish’s endless array of Who titles, there’s just about enough in the way of pleasant surprises to be found in Mike Tucker’s latest Seventh Doctor script to warrant a listen for devotees of all things Sylvester McCoy, not least since the tale picks up the pace monumentally later on, yet whereas the greatest entries in the studio’s pantheon have appealed to the sympathetic and apathetic alike, in this instance the appeal will almost undoubtedly be limited to the aforementioned section of the programme’s vast fandom.

The first question that we must ponder, then, is precisely what makes Warehouse’s opening half such a downright chore to experience in comparison to this four-part adventure’s admittedly eventful (if not exactly action-packed) denouement. That Bonnie Langford’s Mel once again earns herself little to do beyond accompanying the Doctor around a clone-laden, futuristic warehouse as they’re chased by vicious rodents for almost 50 minutes certainly doesn’t help matters; indeed, between this relatively shallow storyline (the philosophical contemplations in which don’t go much further than mild commentaries on consumerism, our instinctive mistreatment of vermin and the inert dangers of deification) and “The Brink of Death”, the final chapter in last month’s largely brilliant The Sixth Doctor – The Last Adventure, Langford’s audio incarnation of her classic 1980s character rather seems to be getting short shrift at the moment, at least when contrasted with the considerable amount of emotional progression offered to Lisa Greenwood’s Flip in The Last Adventure’s grand “Stage Fright”.

In fairness, McCoy himself hardly fares much better, instead finding himself forced to simply untangle the mystery connecting the titular facility to the seemingly derelict planet below without ever revealing much more about one of the more divisive incarnations in Who’s half-century-spanning history, a true crime in and of itself given the extent to which his ludicrously accomplished 2013 trilogy of releases – “Persuasion”, “Starlight Robbery” and “Daleks Among Us” – went out of its way to develop the Seventh Doctor just as substantially as the Dark Eyes series had done for his increasingly sombre successor of late. That’s not to say that either Langford or McCoy doesn’t give their all in terms of creating a performance which remains both accurate in terms of their TV counterparts and genuinely earnest, only that Tucker has missed a severe opportunity in opting not to provide them with some juicier content with which to broaden their respective time travelling constructs’ psyches.

Perhaps the problem therefore doesn’t lie so much with the individual performances powering this underwhelming new chapter in the Seventh Doctor saga as with the flawed characterisation on the part of Tucker himself; that would certainly explain why many of the supporting players to whom we’re introduced here completely fail to resonate on any kind of personal level. Once we move forward into Parts 3 and 4 and the tedious introductions (most of which take up far too much of the running time, thus only adding to the laborious nature of the opening half), the various clone constructs such as Clare Buckfield’s Ann and Barry McCarthy’s Fred stationed aboard the space-bound vessel which gives Warehouse its name at least reveal some more engaging traits thanks to them having inspired an entire religious cult worshipping them from below, with the inevitable crossing-of-paths that occurs between these so-called deities and their blindly loyal followers lending a welcome dose of humour to the tale’s penultimate chapter. Even so, though, despite Tucker having showcased his talents with regards to bringing minor constructs to life in his past New Series Adventures novels like The Nightmare of Black Island and more recently The Crawling Terror, most listeners will more than likely find themselves hard pressed to name any truly memorable members of the ensemble beyond McCoy and Langford (which is saying something given that, as discussed earlier, Warehouse hardly represents a landmark chapter for the pair either).

That said, even if comparing The Warehouse to a Summer’s day might be construed as a step too far, just as “Fear Her” was redeemed by its overblown yet somehow wondrous image of the Tenth Doctor carrying the Olympic torch through London, so too does the 202nd addition to Big Finish’s ever-expanding line of Doctor Who sagas sport a few unexpected merits, the most notable of which is easily Tucker’s implementation of the aforementioned theistic cult, the seemingly psychologically unhinged leader of whom is brought to life with commendable aplomb by Dille Keane. At first a humorously ignorant and hopeful entity, this ever-faithful group shows its morally warped (and therefore dramatically stimulating) side later on by demonstrating to the Doctor both purposefully and (subsequently) inadvertently their dystopian origins (which in turn feed into a slight but appreciated discussion of how humanity’s meddling with unknown substances in the name of scientific advances could someday mean its end), their hilarious take on our increasingly pervasive loyalty card systems as well as their horrific solution to dealing with those who blaspheme in any way, shape or form.

Combine this saving grace with the undeniably admirable effort given by Philip Franks to his performance in the role of the scheming, manipulative Supervisor (despite the dull dialogue afforded to the character in question), not to mention the refreshing lack of attempts by Tucker to throw in convoluted arc elements into a yarn which, if nothing else, certainly works best as a standalone instalment, and we’re left with a serial that provides tantalising glimpses of its overall potential in its closing moments, albeit one which takes so long to do so that it’s all but guaranteed to lose the interest of plenty of its audience long before this transition from mediocrity to stunted greatness transpires. Its approach is not completely dissimilar “The Rebel Flesh / The Almost People”, which bided its time for longer than necessary before revealing the crux of its ethics-driven plot in its second half, but the Season Six tale in question at least endowed its viewership with a clear inkling as to what moral dilemmas lay ahead. Tucker’s latest, on the other hand, meanders for such a great length of time with no through clear-line that it’ll take a truly dedicated listener to persevere in search of its engaging (but still hardly revolutionary, not to mention hopelessly delayed) second and third acts. In all honesty, if Big Finish echoes the stock check conducted by the duplicates littering this at times painful outing’s central setting and happens to find that all remaining copies of The Warehouse have somehow gone astray, then – much as it pains this reviewer to say it in light of the traditionally high calibre of the studio’s contributions to the realms of the Whoniverse – it’ll represent no great loss to the fandom at large.

“It’s the end…but the moment has been prepared for.”

Regardless of its origin as the ominous yet somehow inertly reassuring final words uttered by Tom Baker prior to his Doctor’s regeneration in “Logopolis”, that fateful line of dialogue has rarely rung truer than with the wholly timely demise of the Sixth Doctor. Not only was Colin Baker’s divisive incarnation robbed of his own on-screen transformation thanks to behind-the-scenes disputes leading to Sylvester McCoy donning an unwieldy blonde wig in “Time and the Rani”, but as was revealed in last month’s edition of DWM (Issue 489, to be precise), Baker himself had until quite recently declined Big Finish’s various offers to send his most famed construct off in proper style. With all of that contextual background taken into account, the mere existence of The Sixth Doctor – The Last Adventure, a near unprecedented audio saga intended to rewrite continuity somewhat so as to give old ‘Sixie’ the denouement he deserves, represents a staggering development in the programme’s history worthy of applause in and of itself.

Of course, although the same could have been stated of the Eighth Doctor’s one and only televised serial, that the TV Movie managed to premiere both in the States and here in Britannia didn’t prevent the one-off, bumper-length special from receiving a far from congratulatory critical reception soon after its debut. Will the so-called Last Adventure (a title which admittedly seems more tenuous by the day given Big Finish’s ongoing plans for Baker’s most iconic persona) go down as another such tragic misfire, then, or as a near-unprecedented triumph on the scale of Russell T. Davies’ much-adored reboot-turned-faithful continuation “Rose”? To discover precisely this truth, let us plunge back into an age of technicoloured jackets, politically corrupt Gallifreyan trials and – most importantly – morally warped future Doctors, evaluating each of the four one-hour tales intended to chronicle the darkest – and by all accounts finest, though we’ll be the judge of that claim – hour of perhaps Theta Sigma’s most controversial regeneration to date.

The End of the Line:

Perhaps it’s this reviewer picking nits for the pure sake of doing so, but if any of the episodes featured on what is undoubtedly one of Big Finish’s more audacious compilations in their eventful history could have been released separately so as to reduce the hefty 420-minute running time awaiting listeners here, it’s this one. Try as they might to connect their largely gripping yarn – which sees ‘Sixie’ and his soon-to-be incumbent assistant Constance Clarke (Miranda Raison) investigate an increasingly mysterious railway train packed to the brim with temporal surprises (think “Mummy on the Orient Express”, albeit with far greater exploration of what lies beyond its primary setting) – to The Last Adventure’s central arc surrounding the Doctor’s inevitably self-destructive series of final confrontations with the ever-sinister, ever-vainglorious Valeyard, writers Simon Barnard and Paul Morris ultimately offer the sense that like 2014’s Trial of the Valeyard (a once-apparently pivotal storyline which receives scarcely even a passing reference here, we might add), The End of the Line could easily have been released as a standalone title, or even in the form of a Short Trips-esque prequel several weeks prior to this box-set’s launch. Indeed, save for a few choice moments which the scribes strategically reserve for End’s denouement as well as a well-guarded cameo from one of the 1980s Doctors’ most persistent adversaries, this largely self-contained opening instalment could easily have come off as unnecessary filler in light of its acting as a Greatest Hits showcase for ‘Sixie’ as opposed to a fitting opener for what had always been pitched as a tightly-woven quartet focusing exclusively on the manner in which the Seventh Doctor truly came to be.

Enter Baker and Raison, both of whom excel at establishing a fresh dynamic of intellectual equality, genuine faith in the titular Time Lord’s ever-risky machinations, and most of all earned respect between Constance and her extra-terrestrial TARDIS crewmate in spite of Big Finish not yet having released the story in which these two great minds meet for the first time (though that’s due next month in the form of the Matt Fitton-penned Second World War thriller Criss-Cross). Without the promisingly assured performances of this enviably talented pair, we’d probably have been left with a primarily lacklustre audio drama, especially given that the turns provided by the likes of Anthony Howell and Maggie Service as the aforementioned track-bound vehicle’s band of waylaid passengers don’t exactly rank among the most memorable additions to Who’s ever-expanding audio ensemble (since, suffice to say, anyone expecting emotional depth from these secondary players on a par with those introduced in “Midnight” will come away severely underwhelmed), barring the moments where Barnard and Morris afford them significant chunks of dialogue so as to haphazardly further the compelling but easily condensable plot powering this intrigue-laden – albeit at times frustratingly inconsequential – initial outing.

The Red House:

Ironically enough, though, whereas it’s the leading pair of voice actors at The End of the Line’s helm who prove to be its handy saving grace rather than its supporting cast members, the opposite is in fact true of Alan Barnes’ The Red House, wherein Michael Jayston’s deliciously exaggerated take on his returning “The Trial of a Time Lord” antagonist the Valeyard – or the Doctor, as he claims he’ll one day become known by the wider cosmos – elevates an otherwise forgettable play centring on a frankly dull dystopian world of part-werewolf, part-humanoid beings; clichéd outsider communities who’ve been shunned by their former colonist allies and, worst of all, hopelessly predictable conflicts entailing reckless rebellions against a false empire. The latter’s presence in proceedings remains so minimal that the audience can’t help but struggle to give anything close to a damn about the war which Baker’s semi-iconic adversary appears absolutely intent on sparking (for reasons that mercifully become far clearer once the bell begins to toll on both versions of the Doctor’s respective character arcs), hence why the focus of all but the most avid fans of Hunger Games-inspired (or Brave New World-inspired; by all means take your pick) worlds without hope or compassion will soon inevitably shift to the aforementioned sub-plot in which Charley Pollard (brought to life with magnificent aplomb once more by India Fisher) faces off against the dark side of the man who she’s seen fit to travel with through time and space on not one but two occasions.

As anyone who persevered with “The Trial of a Time Lord” through to its high-octane denouement will surely attest, there was scarcely ever any reason to fear for the strength of Jayston’s third performance in perhaps his most infamous role, and indeed, despite being forced to dip into the realms of melodrama on occasion here just as he did in the original 1986 adventure, he doesn’t hold back when delivering the manipulative, psychologically assaulting and yet at times somehow subtly charismatic (proof if ever any was needed that the Valeyard hasn’t sacrificed everything in the name of peace and sanity at this point as was the case with John Hurt’s Time War-bound incarnation) dialogue afforded to him both over the course of House’s second half by Barnes as well as in The Last Adventure’s two remaining instalments. Nevertheless, with ‘Sixie’ curiously relegated from the bulk of proceedings despite the moments preceding his demise supposedly being intended to form the crux of this long-awaited set, it would seem that Barnes didn’t quite heed to the collection’s overarching criteria in this regard, something which would be that much more forgivable were it not for the disheartening lack of innovation present in his uninspired setting, a near-fatal flaw which only just fails to cripple The Red House entirely, with its redemption coming only fleetingly in the form of Jayston’s various prolonged (and oh-so-welcome) cameos.

Stage Fright:

For those beginning to question the need for their investment in this hefty £20 or £40 title having reached the halfway point of this review and having read of the considerable shortcomings sported by Red House – as well as to a far lesser extent End of the Line – now’s the time to breathe a hearty sigh of relief. Whilst this reviewer’s overall familiarity with Victorian quasi-detectives Henry Gordon Jago (Christopher Benjamin) and Gordon Litefoot (Trevor Baxter) didn’t extend far beyond his initial viewing of “The Talons of Weng-Chiang” (an entertainingly fast-paced, if at times disbelief-testing, introductory tale first broadcast as part of the Fourth Doctor era in 1977, though this won’t exactly come as news to the characters’ ever-expanding fan-base) when the time came to consume “Stage Fright” in its delightful 60-minute entirety, this lack of knowledge regarding in particular the history of Big Finish’s aptly-named Who spin-off Jago & Litefoot didn’t prevent Last Adventure’s penultimate instalment from easily ranking as the most satisfying entry of the bunch by an immeasurable distance.

There’s a chance this sweeping evaluation might come as a shock to any readers expecting the Sixth Doctor’s swansong to peak in its concluding moments: surely “The Brink of Death” should take the crown as this incarnation’s finest set-piece given its valiant efforts to rewrite the character’s botched demise? Surprisingly, no. That’s not to say the aforementioned serial disappoints – by and large, it’s another winner, as we’ll discuss later, but even so, it’s not dripping with the same level of periodic atmosphere as “Fright” by any stretch of the imagination. Perhaps director Nicholas Briggs (who has in fact seen fit not only to helm all four tales but also to try his hand at penning their finale in the form of “Brink”) and the cruelly underappreciated team behind this masterpiece’s soundtrack deserve the most credit, especially since it’s all too easy for us to forget the incredible work that goes on beyond the confines of the recording studio in order to elevate the studio’s projects higher than most. Even so, however, to deny the influence Benjamin and Baxter have as they reprise their hilarious roles, bringing with them all of the energetic gusto, occasional (but vital) pathos and undying comedic interplay which made both constructs such hits with ‘70s viewers and modern listeners alike, thereby owning both the metaphorical and literal stage in the process.

As if all of that weren’t enough, they’re presented with the chance to converse with Lisa Greenwood’s Flip as she confronts the inherently personal fear which lends this episode its name – a wholly welcome emotional development for a previously shallow character who’s rarely caught this reviewer’s attention until now – and Jayston’s Valeyard as the latter manipulator takes control of the two wannabe investigators’ New Regency Theatre in a bid to gain power through theatrical plays intended to mimic his arch-nemesis’ past lives (or rather deaths) prior to their coming battle. Admittedly the glorious return of these Not-So-Great Detectives can’t quite compensate fully for the predictable manner in which proceedings come to a close, with the necessity of the Valeyard’s survival to fight another day inevitably necessitating his fortunate escape from the City of London’s confines, yet in stark contrast to its immediate predecessor, “Stage Fright” effortlessly negates its minor weaknesses by offering up an atmospheric, perfectly paced hour of entertainment which’ll endure in its listeners’ minds for just as long as “Talons” has, if not longer still.

The Brink of Death:

Whether the same can be said of Briggs’ undeniably bold quest to rewrite what’s easily one of the most loathed moments in Doctor Who’s hardly clear-cut canon will naturally remain a matter of fierce discussion for some time to come, not least since Steven Moffat’s namechecking of Charley et al in “The Night of the Doctor” only further muddied the waters in terms of discussions surrounding whether Big Finish’s audio releases can be considered official chronicles of their inspiration’s (supposedly) previously untold escapades. As disheartening a realisation as this must have been for Briggs at the time of drafting his script for “The Brink of Death”, only one fact is absolutely certain – there could have been no pleasing everyone with this latest endeavour, although in all honesty, given this reviewer’s unashamed disdain for the mere sight of “Time and the Rani”, the chances of the esteemed Dalek voice actor coming anywhere close to producing an inferior effort were always all but second to none.

If the latter admission like a prelude to a largely cynical evaluation, however, then fret not; it’s by no means perfect (few Who serials are, if we’re being brutally truthful here), but “Brink” comes about as close to conceiving the triumphant denouement Baker and Big Finish’s execs must have been hoping for as any budding audio production could. Is the Valeyard’s prolonged arc of darkness and mystery brought to a comprehensive conclusion? Not quite – most will still likely find themselves somewhat bemused as to the character’s precise origins (or rather the true reasoning for them) come the credits, a disappointing turn of events given that we had been promised a transparent resolution in this regard during recent Last Adventure press releases. Does the fate with which ‘Sixie’ meets echo the selfless, stirring demises originally presented to all but Baker’s seemingly doomed-from-the-outset incarnation? Absolutely. In fact, as those fortunate enough to have placed a pre-order for this collection will have already learned, the completely poignant sequence in question still finds a way of keeping “Rani”’s ludicrous but nevertheless (somewhat tragically) canon opening scene intact, albeit while ensuring that the moments preceding the Doctor’s fall from an exercise bike and subsequent collision with the TARDIS’ apparently rock-solid floorboards can be seen as fitting in terms of both his tenure at the ship’s helm and indeed in terms of his oft-overlooked concern for his future selves’ uncertain moral compass, a trait which manifests itself beautifully with both his final line of dialogue and with the first uttered by McCoy here in a similarly touching cameo.

As easy as it would be to elaborate in greater detail about the convoluted nature of the Valeyard’s grandiose final machinations (which takes into account his actions in all of the first three plays, only to then surely leave the vast majority of listeners boggled as to why the scheme took quite so long to plan and thus why this plot required quite such an elaborate set-up), Briggs’ misuse (however intentional) of Bonnie Langford’s almost non-existent Mel or the aforementioned ambiguity continually engulfing the true nature of the Doctor’s alleged future malevolent persona, it’s simpler still to instead end with our much-needed confirmation that, these minor faults in its metaphorical stars aside, “Brink” flourishes where its justifiably despised 1987 TV counterpart fails, bestowing the downfall of Baker’s incarnation with a timely aura of victory over moral corruption, not to mention over the naysayers who constantly seek to ridicule this particular version of the Earth’s longstanding alien protector. It’s little wonder that Baker expressed his disillusionment last month with the fans who ranked him as their least favourite Doctor in the pages of DWM, but on the basis of the mostly haunting “The End of the Line”, the dramatically charged (if oft-convoluted) “The Brink of Death” and especially the marvellously authentic – not to mention downright hilarious – “Stage Fright” (if not the surprisingly dissatisfying “The Red House”, The Last Adventure’s weakest link by far), neither ‘Sixie’ nor the still remarkable thespian portraying him have much left to fear, barring perhaps an overdose of particularly zesty carrot juice.

Believe it or not, after decades of painstaking waiting, this time around Baker's revised exit truly has been prepared for and executed with a commendable degree of success - and based on this legendary actor's recent contemplation of his own incarnation's worth, it would seem this much-needed change has arrived not a moment too soon.

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.

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.