Doctor Who is dead! Long live Doctor Who!

Cartmel's influence can be felt here in a stylistic shift every bit as severe as the Robot/Ark in Space change 12 years before. Then, of course, Bob Holmes knew exactly the direction in which he wanted to take the programme, here Cartmel can do naught but betray his uncertainty. However, the inconsistent tone of Paradise Towers can perhaps be attributed to director rather than script editor. The criticism aimed at the cannibalism of The Two Doctors and Revelation coupled with the "more humour, less violence" directive picked up by Mallett from working on Mysterious Planet the year before leaves director and script at odds from which the serial never recovers.

The script itself is a blackly comic urban thriller, a template that would serve the programme well for its final three years. However, black comedy is a very fragile and complex genre; every time the script aims for this target it is undermined by Mallet's reliance on slapstick.

It's sometimes hard to believe that this is the same director who two years later would pull an excellent performance out of Nicholas Parsons; here every performance is slightly off-key and no one can claim to have put in a good shift. In ninety minutes of television, only two scenes play out as the script intended; Sylvester's escape from the Caretakers and Tilda and Tabby's capture of Mel at the close of part two.

In Sylv's escape from the Caretakers we see the first seeds being sewn of the seventh Doctor's character proper. Subconsciously or not, Sylvester has taken Terrance Dick's "never cruel nor cowardly" edict to heart; acid baths and cyanide traps are a million miles away from this incarnation. His subversion of the Rule Book is the first in a long line of character moments that will eventually encompass talking Kane to death, befuddling Light and refusing to fight the Master. And that's just three I can think of on the hoof.

Then at the close of part two, Mallett hits the perfect note despite himself. For the most part Bonnie Langford is just as uncomfortable here as she was in Time and the Rani, but surrounded by old ladies and scones and tea and knitting she momentarily finds something she can respond to. So when the whole scene takes a turn for the absurd, Bonnie's overplaying is exactly what the script demands.

These two scenes apart the rest of the serial veers wildly between average of absolutely awful. No review of Paradise Towers would be complete without reference to Richard Briers, the man solely responsible for changing the consensus opinion of the serial from "not very good" to "awful." Somebody make him stop. Please. Say what you want about Hale and Pace and Ken Dodd, Richard Briers is the only actor amongst this august quartet and his is the most buttock clenchingly awful performance of the season, nay the era. Like Kate O'Mara's impersonation of Mel just a few weeks before it overshadows the entire serial. It's no wonder that contemporary commentators were already penning the series' obituary.

Richard Briers apart, Paradise Towers does continue Cartmel's steep learning curve. Being the first serial since Vengeance on Varos not to feature any continuity references is ordinarily not cause to celebrate, but this is damning the serial with faint praise. The very ethos of the programme has changed from the turgid navel gazing of season 22; from Paradise Towers onwards Doctor Who is looking forward rather than gazing wistfully behind.

The ratings for your last season were a disaster - what do you do? WHAT DO YOU DO? Do you look at the pattern of the 1980s, where from a strictly ratings perspective your two 25 minute Saturday afternoon seasons (18 and 23) have proven to be the least successful of the of the decade? Do you reflect on the fact that the two episodes per week format has been the biggest ratings draw of the last six seasons?

Or do you stick with the weekly half hour serial format that has patently died a slow and lingering death?

By the mid-80s audiences had proved reluctant to stick with a serial for the three weeks it takes to reach the conclusion. The Davison seasons overcame this to an extent because part four was broadcast just over a week after part one, whilst during season 22 that deficit was reduced to a single week. Heaven knows what was going through JNT's mind when he agreed to a fourteen week serial...

What I'm getting at is this; having been forced to regress to a format that should have long since been abandoned, through accident or design Cartmel comes up with the best compromise he can, the three-parter. It would be unfair to saddle the three-parters with the generalisation that they were simply four parters with the crap episode taken out (that's part three, by the way), but they are certainly a natural step on the path to self-contained 45-minute episodes that would become genre television's stock and trade in the 90s.

In their most simple terms, Cartmel has reduced the formula thus: episode 1, exploration; episode 2, investigation; episode 3, resolution. The episode 3 exposition instalment that has bogged down Doctor Who plots since time began is removed and the resolution is now only 14 days away, rather than 14 weeks.

In short, I think three-parters were a good idea.

And so on to Delta itself. It's fab. I am totally unashamed to admit that I love it to bits. It feels like the first story to be made exclusively for my generation (by my generation, I mean people who weren't about in the 70s), which probably explains why anyone over a certain age hates it.

A group of rock and roll loving aliens go on a trip to Disneyland in a spaceship that looks like a bus, crash in to a satellite and find themselves in a holiday camp in Wales in 1959. There they meet Burton, who deadpans the line, "You are not the Happy Hearts Holiday Club from Bolton, but instead are spacemen in fear of an attack from some other spacemen?" in a way that Leslie Nielsen couldn't have bettered. Thereafter he wanders through the story like Captain Mainwaring on acid, facing the bad guys with an enthusiasm that seems almost improper for a tale about genocide.

You couldn't make it up, well... er... yes you could, evidently.

After eight weeks of toil Sylv is getting a grip on where he wants to take the character. He dances uncomfortably with Ray, confronts Gavrok, rides a motorcycle, hugs a stratocaster and talks about love in a way than none of his predecessors could have done. Then he hatches a plan to defeat the bad guys with honey; he's a joy. Bonnie is still as stilted as usual, but she seems on firmer footing back on earth with (regular?) human beings to interact with.

As for the guest cast, Ken Dodd is Ken Dodd and doesn't bring shame on his profession in the way Richard Briers did a week before; Don Henderson is Don Henderson - I've never seen Z Cars but from what I've seen of him in other things, here he plays the same gruff character he'd been playing for the previous thirty years. Stubby Kaye is Stubby Kaye; actually, can you see a pattern developing here? By the same token I can only assume that David Kinder and Belinda Mayne are as bland in real life as they are on screen.

But the two who really steal the show are Richard Davies and Hugh Lloyd. Davies I mentioned before, he's possibly my favourite character in the whole thing. There's only been two characters in the whole series that I wish had joined the TARDIS crew; the wonderful D84 is the other. Hugh Lloyd as Goronwy adds a wonderfully magical edge to every scene he's in, and provides all of the exposition. In fact, sometimes I wonder if 'Goronwy' is welsh for 'Basil.' For example, when he's talking about the Queen bee secreting hormones into food to create a mate, he's not really talking about bees... or perhaps I'm just reading too much into it.

Either way, I love this tale of sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll to bits. Really. Oh, and if Malcolm's Mum could put the cheque in the post, that'd be great.

This is one of the last of three throwbacks to season seven (the other two being The Sea Devils and Invasion of the Dinosaurs) and in my book it is the most successful in capturing what was so gripping about that first year for Pertwee. For a start it is filmed and performed with total conviction, you never doubt any of the material because it is treated in such a serious and dramatic fashion. It is blessed with a fantastic budget, which allows for some breathless action sequences. And it contains a genuine threat and one that that manages to scare effectively without resorting to rubber masks and messy deaths. Oh yes this is a powerful story all right. 

There is one scene in Mind of Evil that guts me every time I watch it. It takes place at the end of episode three; the Doctor is re-captured by the Master is tied into the Keller machine by Mailer. It is a combination of the imagery and the ideas. The Keller machine has already been demonstrated as a mock electric chair torture device and seeing the Doctor manhandled by such a thug with a bloody great shotgun is terrifying. The clinical setting and the Master’s casual enjoyment of the situation added to Dudley Simpson’s forceful musical score combines to create a truly chilling moment and one that sticks in the mind. 

I have always been a firm believer that the ‘real’ world has no place in Doctor Who (my disgusted reaction to rape/abortion/bestiality in Warlock) or if it must be involved it should be used only as a backdrop to highlight the fantastical elements. In my book Doctor Who is escapist fiction and helps provide a release from the terrors of the real world. Watching it is like hugging a comfy blanket when you are ill. Who wants to be reminded about terrorists/rapists/incest, the sick underbelly of society that festers out of control? Not me. But then a story like The Mind of Evil comes along which deals with nuclear weapons, prison riots and evils of the mind and it reminds me that the real world can be utilised effectively, it can push terrors to the surface that we would like to forget about. It is great television, scary and thoughtful and it almost makes you ache to think what other dramatic stories there are to be told in the hellish land we live in. Doctor Who with little imagination sounds a dire prospect but when illicit elements can be used this well I am willing to forgive. 

There is a hell of a lot of gunplay in the story, the action quota being much higher than your average Doctor Who. Given the era it is set in you can be sure that the stunts will be successful and several sequences, the raid on the missile and the attack on the prison are breathtaking. Doctor Who violence never feels that real to me but this, criminals and soldgiers gunning each other down, strangling, punching, shooting at point blank range, it is painfully realistic. UNIT is still being treated as a vicious organisation, gone is the “we don’t actually arrest people” from The Invasion and now they are taking control of deadly missiles, protecting peace conferences and killing anybody that prevents them upholding the Queens peace. They scare me frankly, despite idiots like Henderson and Yates (both seem right nancy boys) because they have the right to take lives if necessary. Even Lethbridge Stewart takes a few of them out, posing as a provisions driver and storming into the prison grounds, he shoots somebody right in the chest on top of a building. I get that this is kill or be killed but it is still frightening. 

Brr…that damn Keller room, could they have designed it any scarier? It’s like some high tech dentist room, cold white tiles everywhere. When Barnham is strapped to the chair and the camera zooms down from above as the machine throbs into life you cannot fail to see the death penalty similarities. The Keller machine itself is a brilliant idea, an evil intelligence that feeds on the evils of mind and uses your fears against you…now there is a chance to get inside your characters head and see what makes them tick. During one of several heart racing attacks by the machine the Doctor is confronted by the parallel world he saw destroyed last year in Inferno and it is touching to see it stills play heavy on his mind. Even better is the Master’s fear, a truly surreal moment where the Doctor appears as some laughing phantom, taunting the Master and suggesting his deep fear of losing to his foe. Once the machine becomes mobile it really takes on a life of its own, eating up brains aplenty and turning the screen a horrible crackly white colour that, combined with the victim’s deathly screams makes quite an impact. Maybe it was a mistake to make the machine so phallic looking but the ideas are what count and the performances, especially Jon Pertwee’s make the thing far more frightening than it really deserves to be. 

Ahh yes Pertwee, the least impressive actor of the lot you say? I say rubbish and watch this story as an example of what he was capable of. His turn as the terrified Doctor is unforgettable, for the usually arrogant and insulting Time Lord to be so helpless and petrified and yet still maintain his dignity was not an easy job but Pertwee is superb, his achingly tired, almost drugged reaction to the Master’s abuse is haunting. To know that one of his hearts stopped suddenly makes the threat very real, even the Doctor cannot fight against this monster and it will never stop coming. I realise Pertwee enjoyed playing the dashing dilettante and he certainly impresses in his action sequences in other stories but this is his star turn, showing the Doctor at his all time weakest and yet still managing to fight. When he says, “How on Earth am I going to stop (the machine) now?” you know that things are bad. 

The story even compromises the Master who made his debut in the previous story as a intergalactic showman, deadly certainly but with a knowing smile that informs us he will always be beaten in the end. Here there are no such pretences and when he infiltrates the prison with bombs and guns to release the inmates all that cuddly villainy drops away. Suddenly he is torturing the Doctor in the most perverse manner and stealing missiles to fire at a peace conference. In these post 9/11 days his plans seem more terrifying than ever, this may be elaborate fiction but there are some shocking reminders of some of the worst atrocities humanity has seen. There is a sinister edge to the Master in this story that we never saw very often (The Deadly Assassin, the end of the Keeper of Traken, Survival) but should have been exploited far more. Brought to such a deadly serious level the Master is quite the gripping villain, one you never doubt when he threatens, “I’ll put a bullet through both your hearts”. 

If all people can rant on about is the co-incidence of the Keller machine and the Thunderbolt being dealt with in the same story then we should consider ourselves lucky. Come on Doctor Who thrives on bloody co-incidences like this all the time! The only trouble I have with the plotting is the repetitive nature of some of the events; the cliffhangers do feel very samey when there were some ripe moments to choose from (driving off with the missile for one!). But even these faults can be looked on as strengths when you realise how much more striking each machine attack is to the last, the way the familiar events build in tension ensure that the climax is very potent indeed. 

Timothy Coome is a much-undervalued director and his work here maintains his flawless track record that began with the equally impressive Silurians. He manages to capture a scene as vividly as possible and create an atmosphere of terror as good as any of the celebrated Who directors. Touches like the cage rattling inmates during each Keller process, the ‘phantom’ Doctor looming over the Master, the close up of the bubbling creature with Summers disgusted reaction in the background, prove he is milking the story for every nightmare. He somehow manages to make the machine disappearing from a room the most alarming of moments, some fast zooms, drunken angles and fades he convinces the machine is bloody well pissed off and wants out! He handles the action with a nice touch of realism, laying off on the music so we can hear the men screaming their last screams. 

This sort of thing would have put me off ever watching the show again when I was a kid so I can only imagine what the youth of then had to say. How Terror of the Autons managed to escape the 70’s as the biggest scare fest when this shocker was nestled next door is beyond me. 

It remains one of my favourite Pertwee’s to this day mainly due to its clinical realism and unflattering glimpse at the real world. There is a remarkably polished feel about the show aided by the fact that it only exists in black and white helps immeasurably (no gaudy colours to get in the way of the scares!). I cannot reconcile how this is compared to James Bond as not one of those camp classics comes close to capturing the cold flavour of this story, yes they both enjoy plenty of action but in terms of atmosphere and terror the Mind of Evil wins hands down.

Marco Polo is not the greatest story the programme ever made but it is the most charming. The leisurely pace, the long journey, the gradual sumptuousness of the sets and Marco’s narration all contribute to a unique atmosphere never seen again. It is not powerful like The Aztecs but it seeps into your heart.

This story is very well written and constructed. The characters Marco Polo and Ping Cho add considerably to its charm and Tegana’s scheming provides the plot and suspense. All three characters are nicely rounded and develop as the story progresses. The excellent episode title The Wall of Lies is virtually a summary of the plot, for all characters interacting with Tegana are confronted by it. Marco is fooled by it until the very end but the TARDIS crew have their suspicions from a very early stage. One of the storyВ’s clever tricks is showing how Tegana’s lies pit Marco against the main characters and Ping Cho – this results in many quiet triumphs for Tegana, e.g. when Marco splits up Ping Cho and Susan and when Marco seizes the TARDIS. It also drags the audience in, for Marco is a kind and honourable man whose sense of duty and yearning to return to Venice are twisted by Tegana for his own selfish ends. Who can fail to remain uninvolved when Marco writes in his journal how pleased he is with Tegana when he finds Susan and Ping Cho in the desert after the sandstorm? Or when Tegana forces Barbara to admit the crew are against Ping Cho’s marriage, making Marco assume Ian has tricked him and wants to retrieve the TARDIS instead of finding Ping Cho? The scenes where Tegana’s villainy are blatantly shown merely reinforce our frustration with Marco’s misguided loyalty, e.g. when Tegana cuts the gourds or taunts the absent Marco at the oasis when he pours the water into the sand. Not many stories combine such well written characters with such careful plotting. 

The audience’s frustration with Marco is mirrored by the main characters’ frustration as well. The Doctor is particularly delightful for he reacts in many different ways. Initially he bursts into helpless laughter, then taunts and insults Marco – “You poor, pathetic, stupid savage!” His righteous anger reminds Marco that he really has no right to take it. The Doctor’s frustration is also displayed in a hilarious moment when he does a mocking impression of Wang Lo – “I could hardly have it placed in the hanging garden now could I?” 

These moments are what make Marco Polo memorable. It is full of scenes where the characters can really express themselves. Susan and Ping Cho by the pond, for example, shows how close they have become. Tegana’s fascination with Ian and Marco’s game of chess shows how he views life as a battle for victory. Barbara’s distress is quite moving when she tearfully tells Ian the Mongols were throwing dice to decide who will kill her. Ian’s scene with Marco when he tells him they travel in time is beautifully written and paced, the acting very good. Ping Cho’s recitation of a story to her listeners is enchanting. And the Doctor’s scenes with Kublai are hilarious, particularly the classic scene where he embarrassingly tells Kublai how much is owed to him. Hartnell shows how good he is at comedy here. 

All these scenes not only flesh the characters out – they also show their humanity. Tegana’s threat is potent because it will destroy these examples of humanity. He cares nothing for anybody except Noghai his leader – in conversation with Acomat he is prepared to order all the caravan’s travellers killed (including Marco). And how humourless he is! Conquest and power are his aims, and they are contrasted strongly with the kindness, humour and charm of Ping Cho, Marco and the TARDIS crew. Kublai also is an unexpected ally, his shrewdness as well as humour making him memorable. The ending of the story is a victory for humanity’s greater qualities as well as the crew’s escape. 

All of this against an epic journey through Cathay. It is the longest and most epic of the historicals and, in terms of time spent in one particular period, the longest story of all time. It is paced very well and really is unique. The story is not faultless – the crew’s conclusion that Kublai will be killed is rather rushed, and it is a pity they have to depart so suddenly without saying adequate goodbyes to Marco, Ping Cho and Kublai. But it is charming from beginning to end and has a timeless, magical quality that will never diminish.

This story is the weakest of the first season. Its episodic tales are novel but all characters are a bit wooden – the script doesn’t really flesh them out very well. There are lots of unintentionally funny moments as well – I particularly like the Voord escorting Sabetha tripping up as he enters the room, and Barbara hitting the vine that attacked Susan with a stone is very funny. The direction is a bit loose – one of the behind the scenes staff is seen when a Voord falls behind a section of the wall in The Sea of Death. The Doctor and Ian suddenly noticing the Voords’ submarines, then the building, is also rather forced – I find it difficult to believe they didn’t notice the building that dominates the island the moment they set foot on Marinus.

Unfortunately there is a lot of corn in this story. The Voords look rather pathetic even though there’s a reason why they have suits. Yartek is simply a two dimensional power mad villain, though I liked the way Ian tricked him with the key. I also have grave doubts about Arbitan – at the end the Doctor consoles Sabetha saying Arbitan was very wise – but was he? He fully intended to use the machine again and uses blackmail to force the crew to help him (incidentally I found the fact that the crew initially didn’t want to help him rather funny). He certainly lets Ian and Barbara down – he didn’t tell them about any of the traps surrounding Darrius’ home, convincing Darrius they were enemies. His death gives Yartek his chance, but when Yartek unintentionally destroys the machine (in a rather pathetic explosion) the Voords are defeated and thankfully are never seen again.

The story isn’t a total disaster. I rather liked The Velvet Web (good episode title). The Morphotons are not bad – they look suitably creepy and the voice is very good. It’s all a bit clichйd (evil creatures that have mutated enslave a society and use illusion to trap more victims) but it works. There is a very good scene where the audience sees what Barbara sees – Susan’s ragged dress and the drabness of everything. Also the scene when the Doctor picks up an old mug, admiring its qualities as an advanced laboratory instrument, is simultaneously amusing and effective. Overthrowing a corrupt society in one episode is not bad going…

The next two instalments are rather weak however. The “threatening” jungle is not that threatening at all really – just a few vines waving about. It is the sound it makes that saves it from being a total failure. Susan and Barbara are irritating here, for the script merely has them descend into hysteria. Darrius is also a walking clichй – initially a scary old man but actually a kind soul. And what’s that talk about a growth accelerator? Looks like he’s responsible for all the mess. The traps aren’t too bad (though the descending ceiling’s spikes look very flimsy indeed) but they are just a weak attempt to make the episode interesting.

The Snows of Terror isn’t much better (and what does the episode title mean – frightening snow that attacks?!). The ice soldiers are awful – was there even one member of the audience who didn’t think they would move when the ice melted? Also the gap where the bridge used to be really is rather small isn’t it? I’m sure it could be jumped… Vasor isn’t too bad – the scene where he rubs Barbara’s hand is suitably repellent and he is a dangerous cunning man. Even so he is still a stock villain full of cackling laughter. I also think the resolution could have been better – Vasor could have gloated, thinking the crew trapped, then the crew turn their travel dials and the shocked Vasor is then killed by the ice soldiers.

The final episodic tale set on Millennius is a bit more thought out and has a couple of twists to keep people interested. The first courtroom drama in the series is seen and it’s not too bad – the Doctor is at home as Ian’s defence counsel and using Sabetha to trick Aydan about the key is rather clever. The pleasure lies in the unravelling of the mystery rather than the characters who are pretty shallow. The key in the mace is a good plot device – it is possible for the audience to work it out and results in Eyesen’s capture. Also it’s nice to see the Doctor working out the murderer was the relief guard so quickly. Eyesen is suitably slimy in a sophisticated way, but Kala is a bit melodramatic (however the actress later portrayed Lady Peinforte, so maybe melodrama is what she’s good at). I found the judges sitting next to the senior judge very funny – lots of nodding and shaking of heads, obviously extras who mustn’t say a word.

The resolution is average and not surprising at all. The Altos/Sabetha romance comes to the foreground though it is corny and unconvincing. The end result is a story that’s a bit of a mess – the only novel point is its numerous settings, though the only one that engaged me was Morphoton. At least Norman Kay’s music was pretty good. Even so, I wasn’t that upset when the TARDIS finally left Marinus…

пїЅAs one of the few surviving intact examples,пїЅ Paul Clarke says, above, пїЅпїЅThe AztecsпїЅ is a fine instance of the DOCTOR WHO historical stories.пїЅ In other words, like it merely because it didnпїЅt get wiped. Now, clearly, thatпїЅs not what Mr. Clarke (and seemingly everyone who writes about this serial) actually intends to say, but пїЅThe AztecsпїЅ largely escapes serious examination simply because it survives, not because itпїЅs actually all that good.

Unlike most other DOCTOR WHO stories, пїЅAztecsпїЅ makes the changing of EarthпїЅs known history its primary thematic and plot device. With a few notable exceptions, DOCTOR WHO avoids discussion of the issue altogether. пїЅThe AztecsпїЅ gives us hints as to why that is. Few stories, and certainly fewer still that actually survive, deal so simply and directly with the issue of the TARDIS crew changing a part of EarthпїЅs known past. Here it is plot, theme, character motivation, denouement, and even back-jacket tagline: пїЅYou canпїЅt change history, Barbara. Not one line!пїЅ The story, at its most basic level, is about BarbaraпїЅs defiance of this stern edict.

And itпїЅs hard to imagine a worse mistake that a writer could make with DOCTOR WHO. Except of course that writer John Lucarotti DOES make it worse. He puts the wrong characters on the wrong sides of the argumentпїЅand then promptly has them пїЅforgetпїЅ their own arguments. In short, пїЅThe AztecsпїЅ is an incoherent swampland of mischaracterization, hoping that the audience wonпїЅt notice the flaws with the script amidst the generally strong acting and production design. 

Once a writer makes the implications of time travel the central theme of a DOCTOR WHO story, heпїЅs on very shaky groundпїЅespecially if he chooses to make the Doctor the advocate for non-intervention. Lucarotti makes his job even harder by choosing to set this argument against the backdrop of known Earth history. Do what you want to the history of Skaro, or even the events of the present day upon the future of the Earth, but stories about EarthпїЅs actual history require much greater care than Lucarotti was apparently able to give. 

There is, after all, very little established at the beginning of episode one that isnпїЅt contradicted by the end of it. The other three episodes are just there to let Lucarotti get himself into deeper trouble. When the TARDIS crew first arrives, the Doctor doesnпїЅt care at all about tampering with the timeline. Instead, he gleefully helps set up Barbara as a god and all but encourages Ian to contest for the leadership of the military. While Barbara is screwing with the timeline to the benefit of the TARDIS crew, the Doctor chuckles a lot and finds it all, to use his word, пїЅcharmingпїЅ. Within a few short minutes, though, this Doctor regenerates into a Time Lord more akin to Borusa than himself. When Barbara tries to intervene with the local customs and stop a ritual killing, the Doctor goes Gallifreyan on her, giving her a standard пїЅnon-interventionistпїЅ line. Then, he ignores what heпїЅs just said, nipping off to the Garden of Peace for a little bit of local strumpet. Meanwhile, Susan and Ian both make similar incursions into local customs and the Doctor, apparently spent from his argument with Barbara, shows no concern over their polluting the time stream. Problematically, the only member of the TARDIS crew to whom the non-interventionist theme of the story applies to is Barbara--and, of course, only after sheпїЅs set up as a god. 

And thereпїЅs really no damn good reason for the inconsistencies. What did the Doctor expect was going to happen when he encouraged his crew assumed positions of high power in fifteenth-century Mexico? Surely he had to anticipate that his crew might use their newfound positions of power to affect change. If he did, then the DoctorпїЅs just a selfish bastard, more concerned with getting back to the TARDIS than the potential damage to the time stream. If he didnпїЅt, heпїЅs just a damned fool. For the love of God, Lucarotti: Ian and Barbara are high school teachers from the 60s. Idealists like this are exactly the wrong humans to install as leaders of Aztec Mexico if youпїЅre trying to avoid intervention. Regardless of his companionsпїЅ пїЅfitness to commandпїЅ, the Doctor got Barbara into this mess. HeпїЅs got no business yelling at her for, well, being herself.

Worse, Lucarotti takes the DoctorпїЅs hypocrisy inexplicably further. What, after all, does the Doctor do almost immediately after his blow-out with Barbara? He goes to sample the local cuisine, falling in love with Cameca. Now, had this been used as part of the motivation behind the DoctorпїЅs generally romance-less TARDIS, it wouldпїЅve been cool. Very cool. The Doctor falls in love with a human from the fifteenth century, realizes the error of his ways, then takes a memento of her with him, foreswearing love with humans forever more. Instead, itпїЅs just a rather stock пїЅships that pass in the nightпїЅ kinda thing that exposes the DoctorпїЅs anger in episode one as a lie. Taken with the other logical inconsistencies, the storyпїЅs theme is reduced to a legalistic punch line: пїЅYou canпїЅt change history, Barbara. Not one line. Unless helping set you up as a God will get us back to the TARDIS. Or if I get a little action in the Garden of Peace. Or if my granddaughter is forced to marry someone she doesnпїЅt want to. Or if IanпїЅs sense of macho isnпїЅt offended. Or if you only affect the destiny of one or two locals (and you can assure me that those one or two locals donпїЅt go on to lead a revolutionary movement). Oh, the hell with it, woman. You fly in my TARDIS. Just obey me and bring me tea when I ask for it.пїЅ

Still, having said all this, Lucarotti couldпїЅve gotten away with it all. He could have, indeed, written one of the very best stories DOCTOR WHO had ever televised. If he had merely taken his situation, and his thesis, and written the parts appropriate to character. The thought that struck me on my very first viewing of this story was that Barbara and the Doctor were playing the wrong parts. Strictly from a character standpoint, the Doctor should have been Yetaxa. Then he would have been the one to make the timestream-altering decisionsпїЅa far more palatable position for the Doctor to be in. Imagine пїЅThe AztecsпїЅ if the Doctor were himself, crusading against injustice, while Barbara, the history teacher, works out the implications to her time line if the Doctor carries on. The tension in the story thus becomes the alien of пїЅUnearthly ChildпїЅ doing what he thinks is best versus the human who cares about saving her own timeline. The tension would have been infinitely more effective if the history teacher had been using one of her character traits to fight for something that directly affected her, rather than the more esoteric position she finds herself defending. And imagine the fun of her upbraiding the Doctor for falling in love with the local! Instead of a quickly-mumbled line giving playful assent to the DoctorпїЅs romance with Cameca (one that, incidentally, never has Barbara even vaguely taking the Doctor to task for being such an obvious hypocrite) we could have had a wonderful subplot with Barbara upbraiding the Doctor for messing not only with EarthпїЅs timestream but the affections of a woman he knew full well there could be no future with. Were Barbara herself and the Doctor actually a renegade Time Lord, the line that might have been extracted for the back cover wouldnпїЅt have been the mundane, пїЅYou canпїЅt change history,пїЅ but the infinitely more intriguing, пїЅYou canпїЅt fall in love, Doctor. Ian and I might never be born!пїЅ 

As televised, though, its many scripted flaws make пїЅThe AztecsпїЅ more an пїЅimportantпїЅ work than a good one. Should you watch it? Of course. But then, youпїЅre a DOCTOR WHO fan trying to understand the history of the series. Most casual viewers today, to the extent that they would watch a black-and-white program at all, would probably switch it off after episode one. And thatпїЅs really the source of most of the enjoyment this serial offers. пїЅThe AztecsпїЅ is important for the DOCTOR WHO fan to watch because it shows perfectly why this type of DOCTOR WHO faded. Careful observers might even see, by virtue of the storyпїЅs negative example, how the form might be revived to better effect in future. I suppose, too, пїЅThe AztecsпїЅ provides a useful jumping-off point for broader discussions about the DoctorпїЅs use of time travel throughout his several regenerations and format changes. ItпїЅs just a shame that the one thing пїЅThe AztecsпїЅ fails to do is provide a consistent approach to the subject within its own four episodes. Had it at least done thisпїЅregardless of what other producers did with the subject later onпїЅit might be entirely a classic today.