After the thoroughly impressive ‘The Leisure Hive’, ‘Meglos’ is a considerable disappointment. In keeping with the glossy new look of Season Eighteen, it looks great, but it is let down by an unimaginative plot, some dubious acting, and poor characterisation.

‘Meglos’ contains many of the ingredients of classic Doctor Who, including a megalomaniac villain, an ancient and powerful super weapon, a subterranean city, and an alien jungle. One of its several problems is that, having selected these rather unoriginal ingredients, it fails to combine them in an appealing way, resulting in a collection of tedious clichйs. For one thing, we have Meglos himself, a stock megalomaniac who wants to rule the universe, but who is given no background or motivation whatsoever. We learn almost nothing of his past or of Zolfa-Thura, his planet of origin which is now dead, except that his fellow Zolfa-Thurans destroyed their entire civilization in an attempt to stop him using the Dodecahedron’s destructive might to achieve his dreams of conquest. This might be such a problem if it were not for the fact that Meglos is a cactus. Who lives in a plant pot. This rather raises the question of how his people built a civilization in the first place, or indeed how he managed to build the screens and his laboratory (let alone the Dodecahedron). The obvious answer lies in Meglos’ ability to possess humanoids, and I would hypothesize that the Zolfa-Thurans at one time used to inhabit such humanoids who also lived on their planet, but this raises even more questions and I feel I shouldn’t have to waste time coming up with such spurious explanations. Leaving all of this aside, we are still left with the fact that Meglos is very poorly characterised. The fact that he has waited for thousands of years in his (presumably well irrigated) tub of compost before bothering to go and retrieve the Dodecahedron is rather strange, and a possible reason for this is given only the briefest of nods as he explains to the Gaztacs that the newly developed fluctuations in the Dodecahedron’s power output are part of its programming. Even if viewers are happy to accept that he’s been sitting around twiddling his spines for millennia, his lust for power is still crushingly clichйd; whereas Skagra’s motivation was explored in ‘Shada’ and whereas Pangol’s was understandable in ‘The Leisure Hive’, Meglos just seems to fancy a bit of a lark. Indeed, he even tells the Doctor that his reasons for wanting to blow up planets are “beyond your comprehension”; presumably, they are also beyond the comprehension of writers John Flanagan and Andrew McCulloch. Power-crazed megalomaniacs are relatively common in Doctor Who, but some justification for their behaviour is appreciated; even the Master has the fact that he wants to best the Doctor motivating him. Meglos doesn’t even seem particularly insane, the usual resort of a writer who can’t think of a more interesting reason for his villain being a nutter. 

As if Meglos’ poor characterisation were not bad enough, Tigella, one of the story’s main settings, is just as poorly thought out. Apparently, the idea of a society divided along religious and scientific lines appealed to Flanagan and McCulloch. Strange then that they don’t bother to do anything interesting with it. Potentially, Tigella could be very interesting, exploring the roles of science and religion in society to the small degree that might be possible in a four-part Doctor Who story broadcast at teatime on a Saturday, but instead it has the stereotypical assumption that science equals rationality and religion equals fanaticism thrust upon it and is left at that. Even these stereotypes, so basic as to be crass, might have been used in some interesting fashion, but they are just used to provide the supporting characters to bicker amongst themselves in a way that makes me wonder how the Deons and the Savants manage to co-exist at all. Like Meglos, the Tigellans themselves are poorly characterised, the only slight exception being Zastor who gets some nice dialogue but is acted with a distinct lack of enthusiasm by Edward Underdown who was unwell during filming. The only other Tigellan of any real note is Lexa, and she is only remembered as much as she is because Jacqueline Hill, returning to Doctor Who for the first time since Barbara Wright left the original TARDIS crew at the end of ‘The Chase’, plays her. Hill makes a reasonable effort in the role, but can’t rise above the fact that Lexa is just a clichйd zealot. Lexa’s sacrifice in Episode Four to save Romana seems to be some feeble attempt on the part of the writers to give the character some depth by allowing her to gain redemption for nearly sacrificing the Doctor, but it is a trivial effort if this is indeed the case. 

The poor characterisation of the Tigellans highlights even more the pitiful lack of background detail in the story. Whereas in ‘The Leisure Hive’, we were provided with a wealth of background information on both the Argolin and the Foamasi, here the lack of background about Meglos is compounded by the lack of background on Tigella. This only serves to highlight the fact that, as is often the case in Doctor Who, Tigella is supposedly an entire world but is clearly just a few rooms and some extras. As I have discussed in the past, some writers find ways around this problem, and others manage to get away with it through sheer style, but when the overall story is so bland, I’m more easily annoyed by things like Grugger stating that the Tigellans use the Dodecahedron to power their entire planet in Episode One, followed by references to one city with (seemingly) a single entrance throughout the rest of the story. And in order to sustain my interest throughout, I also like to ponder such questions as how, if the foliage of Tigella is so lethal that the Tigellans cannot survive on the surface with their level of technology, did they ever manage to survive for long enough to develop such an advanced society? And therein lies the problem with ‘Meglos’; it really doesn’t seem to have very well thought out. Which is probably why the Doctor and Romana’s means of escaping from the chronic hysteresis is so utterly unconvincing. 

Having got all that off my chest, I must admit that ‘Meglos’ does have its good points. It looks pretty good, save for some rubbery foliage on Tigella (primarily the Bell Plants), with nice model work and decent direction, which manages to squeeze some drama from the proceedings. A combination of Terrance Dudley’s rapidly switching camera angles and a dramatic score from Paddy Kingsland (at least for Episode One) makes the cliffhanger to Episode One almost exciting, as Meglos turns around looking like the Doctor, which I wouldn’t have been expecting if I didn’t already know the story. The Gaztacs also provide a welcome diversion; they’re generally as poorly characterised as the other characters, and their costumes are almost as silly as those of the Savants (dodgy blond wigs are apparently mandatory for scientists on Tigella), but Grugger and Brotodac’s dialogue provides some much needed comic relief. The two characters seem to be united by a genuine friendship, which is unusual amongst Doctor Who villains, and Brotodac’s obsession with the Doctor’s coat is rather entertaining. They are both buffoons, and whilst Bill Fraser doesn’t make much of an effort as Grugger, Frederick Treves seems to be enjoying himself as Brotodac, leading me to wonder if ‘Meglos’ would have fared better in Season Seventeen, script-edited by Douglas Adams and played for laughs. In all honesty, I can’t claim that ‘The Horns of Nimon’ is written that much better than ‘Meglos’ is, but ‘The Horns of Nimon’ is so much more fun that I can’t help but love it. ‘Meglos’, with little humour and wedged as it is between the sombre and much more clever stories ‘The Leisure Hive’ and ‘Full Circle’, just feels awkward. 

Of the regulars, K9 gets more to do than he did in ‘The Leisure Hive’, but the production teams’ intention of phasing him out again means that he suffers, as his power pack runs out for no good reason. At least he gets to provide expository dialogue in a reasonably convincing way (something he is always useful for) and advise the Doctor and Romana, but I do find the various ways used to incapacitate him in Season Eighteen rather sad. Although I suppose I should be glad that when he does leave the series, he isn’t actually put down. Lalla Ward is her usual reliable self here, especially in the first two episodes, when she acts panic-stricken very convincingly whilst the TARDIS is trapped in the chronic hysteresis. But it is Tom Baker who really excels here. However poorly characterised Meglos may actually be he is kept interesting by the performances of Tom Baker and Christopher Owen. Owen switches well between baffled Earthling and gloating villain in Episode One, but Baker really excels at playing the villain, proving for the second story in a row that he can act. There are points during ‘Meglos’ during which, thanks to a combination of impressive cactus make-up and Baker’s chilling performance, the character is thoroughly sinister, and Baker succeeds in keeping his performances as Meglos and the Doctor distinct, even when Meglos is actually impersonating the Doctor. It isn’t really enough to rescue ‘Meglos’ from its shortcomings, but it does at least make it worth watching at least once. 

Ultimately, ‘Meglos’ is disappointing, especially after ‘The Leisure Hive’. Fortunately, the following story succeeds in restoring Season Eighteen’s initial high quality…

There are, in my opinion, two basic types of vampire story. The first is the traditional type, based almost exclusively on the Bram Stoker’s Dracula, eventually reduced to the status of clichй by a long tradition of films in which aristocratic middle-aged men with widow’s peaks and red lined cloaks pray on visitors to their castles, especially buxom ones. The other type concern attempts to update the vampire mythos by bringing them into a modern setting, and examples include the Blade films, From Dusk till Dawn, and obscure British science fiction series Ultra-violet. Personally, I’m not hugely enthusiastic about either approach; I find it hard to take the former seriously due to over-exposure, and the latter inevitably brings to mind Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a series adored by many Doctor Who fans but despised by me for its “hip” wisecracking approach. For this reason I’ve never found ‘State of Decay’ that appealing, since it takes the traditional style of vampire stories but adds a new, more radical twist to it by cementing vampires firmly in the Doctor Who mythology. On this viewing however, I was forced to reassess my unenthusiastic attitude towards it, as it proved to be far better than I remembered.

‘State of Decay’ is, like most of the stories in Season Eighteen, very atmospheric, and it is this that makes it work. A sense of doom and gloom pervades the story throughout, as soon as the oppressive and depressing plight of the villagers is made clear early on. The background to the story is horrible; entire generations of Earth colonists trapped in a literal state of societal decay, forbidden to read or learn, and treated as little more than cattle by the Three Who Rule. The fact that there is nowhere else on the planet save for the village or the tower creates a claustrophobic feel to the story, and from the moment Ivo’s son Karl is chosen during the Selection, a relentlessly grim atmosphere prevails. It is to the credit of director Peter Moffatt that this is the case, since throughout Episode One, the poor characterisation I unfortunately tend to associate with Terrance Dicks’ writing is in evidence. The villagers are utterly forgettable, as are the rebels and the guards, and they are lumbered with dialogue that, whilst not exactly dreadful, fails to be particularly realistic (at one point, Ivo notes that “resistance would be useless”). It doesn’t help the production that there is also some bad acting on display; Clinton Greyn is unenthusiastic as Ivo and Iain Rattray is positively wooden as Habris. Fortunately, the unusual plot structure and the trio of villains compensate for both poor characterisation and ropey dialogue. 

The Three Who Rule work extremely well as the villains of ‘State of Decay’. Ranting megalomaniacs are commonplace in Doctor Who, and as literal monsters vampires can be excused for falling into this category, but Dicks manages to make them genuinely interesting by creating minor tensions within the group as Zargo and Camilla exhibit resentment for Aukon’s greater power and Zargo confesses to Camilla at one point that he is plagued by fears. These are minor touches, but they add depth to the characters. Aukon is particularly well realized as a religious fanatic with absolute faith in the Great One and dripping with zeal throughout. The three actors play their roles very well, making Zargo, Aukon and Camilla seem menacing without going over the top, which must have been tempting especially for William Lindsay who has to cope with one of the stupidest beards ever to appear in the series. In addition, all three vampires benefit from the great back-story; having decided to cast his vampires in the traditional mould as aristocrats living in what is essentially a castle, Dicks comes up with one of his more interesting plots by revealing that the tower is in fact a stranded spacecraft from Earth brought into E-Space by the power of the Great Vampire. He then plugs the entire concept of vampires seamlessly into the Doctor Who format by revealing that the Great Vampire is an ancient and awesomely powerful alien menace that has inspired myths and legends on a dozen planets throughout the universe, thus following in the largely successful tradition of stories such as ‘The Dжmons’ (disliked by me but popular with many fans), ‘Pyramids of Mars’, and ‘Image of the Fendahl’. Thanks to this rich fictional backdrop, ‘State of Decay’ manages to become more than it at first seems, which is basically a story in which a group of rebels from an oppressed population strive to overthrow the tyrants who are oppressing them. 

In addition to this, the story structure is rather interesting; the Doctor and Romana spend almost the entire story being captured or detained by various groups and then immediately provided with bucket loads of plot exposition. Examples include their detention by the rebels, who explain the poor state of their way of life, and their audience with first Zargo and Camilla and later Aukon, all of whom reveal interesting bits of plot detail. Even when the Doctor and Romana are alone in their cell, they sit and reveal more of the plot to the audience, as do the Doctor and K9 in the TARDIS in Episode Three. This smacks somewhat of lazy writing, but is dealt with so well by the actors involved and carried along so well by the general air of foreboding that instead it just seems novel and interesting. Indeed, the production is largely impressive; the sets and the location filming gel very well, and both look great. Even more impressively, the model shots of the village and tower fit very well with both. Stock footage of bats is used surprisingly well, although the briefly glimpsed model bats are horribly rubbery and unconvincing. Unfortunately, this is not the only dodgy aspect as the model work used to show the scout ship taking off, flipping over, and crashing down into the Great Vampire is diabolical, as is the mercifully brief glimpse of the Great Vampire itself on Calmar’s screen in Episode Four. On the other hand, the special effects sequence of the deaths of the Three Who Rule is very impressive. So two are Paddy Kingsland’s eerie and ominous incidental score, and Amy Roberts’ costumes, although Calmar’s headgear is almost as silly as Zargo’s beard. In addition, the three vampires get some extremely daft looking eye makeup, but overall the production’s good points out way the bad. And the superimposed shot of a bat appearing in front of Aukon in Episode One is great. 

Of the regulars, Tom Baker maintains his high form of the season thus far. He continues to bring out the Doctor’s grimmer, more serious side, adding weight to the dark feel of the story overall, but he also restores rather more of his Doctor’s characteristic humour than in the last three stories, which he uses to bring some much needed light relief to this gloomy story but controls sufficiently so that he doesn’t undermine the atmosphere. Lalla Ward is also on fine form here; of especial note is her convincingly acted terror in Episode Two as the Doctor drops hints to Romana about a monster beneath the tower, but the scene that really shines out is when Romana and the Doctor are talking in their cell. As she casually explains that all Type Forty TARDISes contain the Record of Rassilon and the Doctor tells her that she’s wonderful, the unusual closeness of this Doctor/companion team is emphasized; this is partly the reason why the combination of the Doctor, Romana and K9 is one of my favourite TARDIS crews and the scene carries extra poignancy with foreknowledge of the following story. K9 also gets his best story of the season; whilst he spends most of his time in the TARDIS, he remains useful throughout and also avoids the increasingly common indignities heaped upon him since ‘The Leisure Hive’. Even better, he gets to lead the assault on the tower, culminating in an amusing scene in which Ivo apologizes for underestimating him. On the other hand, it is with ‘State of Decay’ that Adric really starts to great on me. For one thing, he’s thoroughly annoying; his cheeky attitude towards both villagers and Aukon in Episode Two is possibly how a cocky teenager would actually behave, but this just serves to remind me why I don’t like teenagers. I’m reasonably confident that I was an obstreperous little bastard at Adric’s age, and would have been largely despised had I been inflected on the viewing millions. An even better example of how irritating he can be is in Episode Four, during his crap attempt to trick Aukon and this rescue Romana. That Aukon falls for it must mean that he’s stupider than he looks, and with that makeup he often looks pretty stupid. More vexingly, Matthew Waterhouse’s lack of acting experience and/or ability starts to become obvious here as he fails even to walk across the TARDIS console room without looking stilted when Adric emerges from hiding. This fusion of vile character and bad acting does not a winning combination make.

Overall, ‘State of Decay’ manages to maintain the quality of Season Eighteen and is much, much better than I remembered. It doesn’t help it though that it is sandwiched between the impressive ‘Full Circle’ and what is by far my favourite story of the entire season…

Two things strike me about ‘The Keeper of Traken’. The first is that has a dark fairytale quality and the second is that it has a distinctly theatrical feel. Either of these could be seen as an advantage under the right circumstances, but the problem is, both of these qualities seem to arise out of a combination of bad writing and poor production values, the result of which is that ‘The Keeper of Traken is a story that never fails to leave me cold. 

The basic underlying concept of the Traken Union is fascinating, in that it is a society held together “by people just being terribly nice to each other”, a society so pure that it literally makes evil shrivel up and die. This simplistic polarization of the concepts of good and evil is what makes ‘The Keeper of Traken’ feel so much like a fairytale to me, but it is ultimately facile. The main problem is the definition of evil; ultimately, the definition of evil is subjective. Whilst there are things that most people believe to be evil, there is no clearly drawn line on one side of which things are “good” and on the other of which they are “evil”, which rather raises the question of what the minimum is that one needs to do to be turned into a polystyrene statue. To further compound this issue, Traken seems to a be a society bordering on fascism, with the ruling Consuls discussing summary executions based on the most spurious of evidence. Most obviously, they are quick to condemn the Doctor and Adric based (from their point of view) on the Keeper’s say so, but this does raise the question, if the Doctor and Adric were evil and evil is immobilized by the power of the Source when arriving on Traken, why don’t the Consuls query their ability to walk around quite happily? By Episode Three, Kassia is able to convince Katura and Luvic of the need to execute their prisoners remarkably easily, Katura’s only comment being a sort of vague reluctance that such things are necessary. In addition, the Fosters, with their easily bribable and corrupt superior Neman, seem to have rather more power top enforce the word of the law than ordinary policemen do. 

In addition to this flawed premise, ‘The Keeper of Traken’ suffers from feeling almost like an amateur theatre production. For one thing, the dialogue, which most certainly is not anywhere near Shakespearean, is rather stilted and fails to sound natural throughout, something which is even more obvious having just watched ‘Warrior’s Gate’, in which the dialogue of Rorvik’s crew is much more realistic. In addition, the entire story is studio bound and the sets look somewhat drab, creating a claustrophobic air that always makes Traken seem more like a collection of rooms than a planet. As I’ve stated many times, this is a common failing of both Doctor Who and television science fiction in general, but here it seems more pronounced than in any story since ‘The Armageddon Factor’. In the case of this particular story, this doesn’t actually bother me specifically, but it does add to the impression that the entire story could be very easily performed on stage. 

My main problem with the stagy feel of ‘The Keeper of Traken’ is that it extends to the acting. Anthony Ainley, on the verge of taking on a more familiar role in the series, is actually rather good here, putting in a gentle, restrained performance that in retrospect does wonders for his reputation as an actor. Tremas is a likeable character from the start, and quickly forms a strong mutual respect with the Doctor, with Baker and Ainley working well together. Considering Tremas’ fate, this is appropriate, since it adds weight to the tragedy that befalls him, which would be far less pronounced if the Master stole somebody else’s body. Denis Carey, in his first role in Doctor Who to actually be broadcast, is perfectly adequate as the wizened Keeper, as is the ever-reliable John Woodnutt as Seron. Unfortunately, the other actors are less impressive; Margot van der Burgh’s Katura and Robin Soams’ Luvic are both utterly forgettable, although in all fairness this is largely due to the way the characters are scripted. Roland Oliver’s Neman is a pantomime stooge, taking so much delight in being ordered to push people around in later episodes that I half expect him to start twirling the ends of his large moustache. Most cringe-worthy of all however is Sheila Ruskin is dreadful as Kassia, over-acting to a horrible degree, especially whenever she is required to faint. Lurid hand-gestures and flared nostrils only emphasize the fact that her performance is hammy.

Then there is Geoffrey Beevers. It must be said that his performance is just as over the top as the Master as Anthony Ainley’s would shortly become, but I find it more enjoyable because it fits the tone of the story. Given that ‘The Keeper of Traken’ attempts to separate the concepts of good and evil so simplistically, and given that characters such as Kassia so obviously blur the line, Beever’s largely vocal performance as the real villain fits perfectly; his voice drips with malicious glee, which makes the Melkur really seem like the personification of evil that it is supposed to be. So thoroughly evil does he seem, that it is easy to believe that the immobilizing web of harmony that enshrouds Traken would ensnare the Master even if not corrupt public servants and traitors. In addition, I must admit that I do rather like stories in which old enemies are revealed to be lurking “behind the curtain”. Once the Doctor enters the Melkur and confronts his old enemy, my tolerance for Beevers’ performance diminishes somewhat, as he lurches about in a way that brings to mind Scooby Doo villains and tips the balance of ‘The Keeper of Traken’ from “theatrical” to “pantomimesque”. Nevertheless, the final scene, in which the Doctor’s old archenemy is restored to his former glory promises a great deal; the rivalry between the Third Doctor and the Master, despite being occasionally wrapped in some dreadful stories, was always enjoyable. Whether or not this promise is delivered on however, is a subject for another time…

Finally, the regulars put in decent performances here, even Matthew Waterhouse. The opening TARDIS scene lends credence to the fact that the combination of the Fourth Doctor and Adric showed great promise, once more casting the Doctor in the role of teacher to Adric’s keen student. In fact the opening scene is worth watching simply because it’s the last glimpse we see of Baker’s old humour in the role (except for the “this type’s not really my forte” line at the end of Episode Four), as the Doctor demonstrates his old ego, defends his handwriting, champions the cause of talking nonsense, and cracks jokes (Doctor: “I thought so!” Adric: “Thought what?” Doctor: “I thought you might appreciate it if gave you the impression I knew what was happening”). Adric is well written here, proving resourceful if hotheaded, and seeming to appreciate meeting Nyssa, somebody of his own age. This particularly makes sense given that Adric seems to have been something of an outsider amongst his own people (Varsh treated him as a little brother more than anything else) and has since been in the company of the Doctor and Romana. Sarah Sutton seems to provoke a rather harsh response from many fans, who describe her as wooden. I don’t think this is entirely fair; Nyssa’s overwhelming characteristics here are gentleness and a rather pampered upbringing; given that she could have been portrayed as a spoilt brat, the fact that the character is realized as somebody well rounded and intelligent is most welcome. Sutton’s performance seems to me to fit perfectly Nyssa’s quiet and gentle reserve, and she nicely conveys the character’s closeness to her father. This is important; Nyssa actually gets very little to do in her debut, but the gradually erosion of her family life, which although she doesn’t know it is utterly destroyed by the end of Episode Four, thus sets the tone for Baker’s swansong…

'Planet of Fire' is decidedly odd. Writer Peter Grimwade is given numerous ingredients to incorporate into his scripts, and as in 'Mawdryn Undead' he does this rather well; whereas in that story he had to cope with the Brigadier, the Black Guardian and a new companion, here he has to write out Turlough, tie up the dangling plot thread that it Kamelion, introduce new companion Peri, and include the Master. Given these criteria, it is impressive that he manages to create a coherent plot at all; that he manages to give Turlough a decent back story and provide the Master with his best story in some time is a minor miracle. 

Turlough's final story sees his past revealed, as we discover that he is a political prisoner from Trion, exiled to Earth following a civil war. The story serves him well, and Mark Strickson puts in a fine last performance as Turlough comes to terms with his past. Initially, he's shifty and deceitful, as the TARDIS intercepts a signal from a Trion beacon; he sabotages the TARDIS, misleads the Doctor, and is more than willing to "finish" Kamelion to prevent his people from finding him. As the story progresses though, his more heroic side emerges, as he realises that Malkon is his brother and places the safety of the people of Sarn above his own continued freedom. Strickson conveys throughout the fact that Turlough is wrestling with his conscience, and it works very well; his eventually discovery that his exile has been rescinded nicely finishes off his story, as he returns home whilst, as the Doctor puts it, he's a "bit of a hero". And he is indeed, a bit of hero; after the TARDIS arrives on Sarn, he gradually accepts responsibility for the safety of its people, whose fiery planet was tamed by the Trions so that they could use it as a prison colony, and it is Turlough's understanding of the remaining Trion technology that allows him to save Malkon's life, and save the people of the settlement. His final scene, as he parts company with the Doctor, is a great moment; the quiet friendship and mutual respect between them is perfectly summed up by Turlough's reluctance to leave the Doctor, and the Doctor's quiet declaration that he'll miss him. And given that he describes Brendan School as "the worst place in the universe" it's nice to see him finally change out of that bloody uniform!

The other departing TARDIS crewmember is of course Kamelion. Having been introduced as plot contrivance in 'The King's Demons', behind the scenes difficulties with the prop meant that Kamelion did nothing except lurk unseen in the TARDIS until 'Planet of Fire'. Craig Hinton and Christopher Bulis may have made use of him since (in 'The Crystal Bucephalus' and 'Imperial Moon' respectively), but he did nothing whatsoever on screen during that time. Following on from his introduction, Kamelion is once more used as a tool of the Master, who reestablishes contact with his puppet and uses him to lure the TARDIS to Sarn. As such, Kamelion is once more used as little more than an instrument by the Doctor's old enemy, and spends most of the time played by Anthony Ainley or Dallas Adams. Kamelion gets a rough time throughout the story; it was established in 'The King's Demons' that he can't resist the Master, but circumstances on Sarn mean that he doesn't even get sympathy from the Doctor, who refers to him as a puppet and generally belittles him in an attempt to overthrow the Master's control. Eventually, the Doctor is forced to induce the equivalent of a heart attack in Kamelion in order to stop his old enemy. But to his credit, Grimwade does at least give Kamelion some characterisation of his own; the scene in Episode Two in which he desperately shakes off the Master's influence just long enough to allow Peri to escape and try to reach the Doctor shows that he is not a willing servant of the Master. His final scene is also rather tragic, as he pitifully apologizes to the Doctor and begs to be destroyed. 

With Turlough departing and Kamelion destroyed, the Doctor is provided with a new companion in the form of Peri. The lingering shot of Nicola Bryant in a bikini in Episode One leaves little doubt as to what John Nathan-Turner was looking for in the role, obviously hoping to appeal to the heterosexual male audience, but fortunately the character comes across as more than just a pair of assets. Her decision to swim ashore when her stepfather Howard leaves her trapped on the boat in Episode One is foolhardy but brave, but where she really shines is in her scenes with the Master (or rather, Kamelion as the Master), to whom she causes considerable inconvenience. Her response to the Master's "I am the Master!" is, rather amusingly, "So what? I'm Perpugilliam Brown and I can shot just as loud as you can!" and later on she interferes with his attempts to harness the numismaton gas of Sarn both by interfering with his control of Kamelion and by attempting to swat him with her shoe. The character also works well with Peter Davison's Doctor, and her decision to travel voluntarily with him at the end promises a keen and enthusiastic traveler on board the TARDIS. Which doesn't last of course, but that's another story… And Bryant's accent, famously convincing enough to fool John Nathan-Turner, is pretty good. 

The other recurring character who plays a role in 'Planet of Fire' is of course the Master. His reduced circumstances mean that here is motivation is once more survival rather than a sudden desire to tinker with the boring bits of Earth history, and it is very welcome. Without the need for ludicrous survival, his appearance (via Kamelion) at the end of Episode One, is for once very effective, since he isn't revealed to have been posing as somebody else for no apparent reason. I addition, Anthony Ainley reigns in his performance to considerable effect; bereft of constant gloating and chuckling, he's far more sinister and intimidating than he is in his usual pantomime mode. He looks utterly mad when he says to Peri "allow me to introduce the tissue compression eliminator", for once seeming like a real lunatic rather than some moustache twirling stereotype. Best of all, the relationship between the Doctor and the Master here is handled far better than usual; the Doctor's tolerance for the Master is at an all time low, as demonstrated when he tells Turlough that if he is withholding anything that will aid the Master then their friendship is at an end. Davison's performance reflects this, as he puts in a far more testy performance than usual once he discovers the Master's involvement, and as noted he takes out his dislike for the Master on poor old Kamelion. Grimwade deserves a medal for the final confrontation between the two Time Lords, as the Doctor stands and watches his old enemy seemingly burnt to a crisp without lifting a finger to help him even when he starts begging. It is exactly how the Doctor should react after the carnage unleashed during 'Logopolis' and works far better than his concern for his enemy in 'The King's Demons'. 

As for the rest of the story and characters, they are all window dressing. The background to the settlement on Sarn is adequate, if vaguely reminiscent of 'The Face of Evil', but the actual characters are largely forgettable. Malkon is only worthy of note because he's Turlough's brother. Timanov is an utter clichй, a stock religious fundamentalist who is more than happy to burn heretics; however, near-legendary Peter Wyngarde brings a certain dignity to the role, and Timanov's decision to die with his settlement seems strangely noble rather than futile. Dallas Adams switches from jovial but parental America scientist Professor Howard Foster to slightly creepy silver skinned android quite well and it's so unusually to see an actual American inDoctor Who that it deserves mentioning. 

The production is competent, if unmemorable. The Lanzarote location work looks nice, although it only really benefits episode one; Sarn quite frankly could have been filmed in a gravel pit in Surrey. There are some good sets, especially the control room in the volcano, although the Great Hall of Fire and secondary control centre for the cave look very artificial. Mind you, director Fiona Cumming performs minor wonders; a miniature Master is a potential recipe for CSO flavoured disaster, but she makes it work very well in Episode Four. And as usual, Peter Howell provides a very good incidental score. Overall, the unusual nature of 'Planet of Fire' means that it could never be a classic, but is a reasonably successful story, albeit one that feels more like an attempt by the production team to tidy up the series before Peter Davison's impending departure than a story in its own right.

The disappointment that I feel when watching 'The Twin Dilemma' straight after 'The Caves of Androzani' must be similar to that which one would feel on having finally had sex with someone you have fancied for ages, only to discover that they have infected you with syphilis. Except that embarrassing venereal diseases are probably more fun than watching 'The Twin Dilemma'.

Before I unleash the floodgates of bile, I'll start with what I do like about 'The Twin Dilemma', which surprising as some might find it is Colin Baker's performance as the Doctor, and also Nicola Bryant's performance as Peri. Whilst I consider Colin Baker to be a decent actor, his portrayal of the Doctor on television is incredibly hammy, but it is a brand of ham that I find highly entertaining. After Peter Davison's serious, earnest portrayal of the Fifth Doctor, Baker's bombastic approach to the Sixth came as a bit of a shock to many fans at the time, and for many of those fans an unwelcome one. Personally, at the age of six-and-a-half years old, I watched in stunned disbelief as the Doctor attempted to throttle his companion, as I suddenly realised that the ever-reliable Doctor was no longer as reliable as he had once seemed. And I found the idea rather exciting. As I've grown older, this feeling has lingered to the point where I now find the Doctor's post-regenerative trauma in 'The Twin Dilemma' fascinating. The Sixth Doctor is arrogant, egotistical, bad-tempered, impatient, selfish, indignant, patronizing, and incredibly erratic. As he recovers from his regeneration, this is especially obvious; whereas previous incarnations have considered their new features with a certain lack of enthusiasm, the Sixth smugly describes his "clear brow" and "noble" gaze to Peri. He wanders about Titan 3 extravagantly bellowing poetry, cackles madly in the wardrobe, and veers between outright cowardice (such as when he cowers behind Peri when Noma and Drak threaten the pair with guns) and reckless bravado ("what's a little radiation when we have a purpose?"). 

What is particularly interesting about this manic characterisation is the effect that it has on Peri. Having nearly died during 'The Caves of Androzani' (and lest we forget, the Doctor sacrificed an incarnation to save her, although it goes unmentioned here!), she continues to suffer considerable emotional turmoil throughout the first three episodes of 'The Twin Dilemma'. Confused and frightened by the Doctor's transformation, she suddenly finds herself confronted with a travelling companion who on occasions actively bullies her, and of course briefly tries to kill her. She becomes increasingly angry and frightened as the story progresses; she is horrified by the Doctor's insistence that he become a hermit and she becomes his disciple, and she is clearly at her wits end when the Doctor drags her across Titan 3 only to cower behind her when they are threatened with guns. He belittles her constantly, uttering contemptuous comments such as "Stay behind - this is work for heroes, not faint-hearted girls!" and "Poor pusillanimous Peri! What a pitiful performance". He also nastily points out when they find the injured Hugo that had they gone back to the TARDIS as she wanted to, he would have died, accusingly telling her that "You would have left one of your own kind to die". But the point of all this is not that I take a malicious glee in seeing Peri suffer, but rather that the character benefits from it for one simple reason; she continuously tries to appeal to the better nature that she believes the Doctor still possesses, and by trying again and again she eventually succeeds. Moreover, she does not simply roll over and accept his constant verbal abuse; at the end of Episode One, she snaps, and gives as good as she gets just before Hugo wakes up. As his new persona stabilizes, she acts as a stabilizing influence; he seems to genuinely intend to let Hugo die after he threatens the Doctor in a moment of delirium, but she convinces the Doctor to help him. She also reminds him that his lack of compassion is a difference that remains between them. Above all, she remains his companion, and under pressure their previously close, or at least friendly, relationship begins to resurface; when the dome is about to explode, he stops sniping at her and explains how he plans to save them. By the end of Episode Three, his new persona has, for better or for worse, settled down, and his concern for Peri at the cliffhanger (in a horribly directed breakage of the fourth wall incidentally) is undoubtedly genuine. Two brief scenes, one in Episode One, and one in Episode Four ultimately typify their new relationship; the first is Peri's "yuck" on seeing the Doctor's new outfit, which he promptly reciprocates when given the opportunity, and the second is the final "I am the Doctor - whether you like it or not". Peri glowers in response, but as their eyes meet they both break into smiles, and it sets the new status quo; they bicker incessantly, but they are once more friends and travelling companions. And for the record, I love that coat; the horrendous clash of colours is superbly suited to the personality of the Sixth Doctor, which remains volatile and unpredictable even after he's recovered from his regeneration. And by Episode Four, he has indeed recovered; he takes charge of the situation on Jaconda and is determined to stop Mestor, whatever the cost to himself. It is also worth noting that Nicola Bryant puts in an excellent performance; as Peri is subjected to more and more abuse from the Doctor, she conveys Peri's anger and distress extremely well, proving that the emotion she showed in 'The Caves of Androzani' was no mere fluke.

Unfortunately, almost everything else about 'The Twin Dilemma' is utter codswallop. Firstly, let us examine the plot. This basically concerns Mestor's plan to kidnap the twins and use their mathematical genius to create a supernova, thus scattering his eggs throughout the universe and also providing them with the heat energy that they require in order to hatch. This plot is, in essence, bollocks. For one thing, even if causing the other planets of Jaconda's to crash into their sun would actually create a supernova it certainly would not "blow a hole in the universe". For another thing, if Gastropod eggs require such enormous heat to hatch, where did Mestor and his brood come from? They are supposedly creatures from Jacondan mythology, the Doctor hypothesizing that some dormant eggs survived. Fine, but in that case, where did they get the heat energy necessary to hatch? When Hugo tries on a jacket in the TARDIS wardrobe, he just happens to try the one in which Peri has hidden the power pack to his gun. Which also begs the question, why didn't she just hide his gun? In all fairness, this is not the most scientific implausible plot in Doctor Who, nor does it boast the most plot holes. Unfortunately however, it is one of the most tedious. The entire subplot of the safe house on Titan 3 is an exercise in prevarication, presumably to give Colin Baker time to establish himself as the Doctor, but Baker's hammy performance aside, it is all immensely dull. Even by Episode Four, with Mestor's plan revealed in its entirety, there is little sense of danger. The impression is given, presumably unintentionally, that Mestor's plan is something that he will get around to actually acting on sometime in the future, when he can be bothered; I assume his intention is actually to begin as soon as the twins' equations are completed, but there is a distinct lack of suspense or urgency to the proceedings. It doesn't help that, in Episode Four, writer Anthony Steven suddenly decides that Mestor can switch bodies and has decided that he is tired of his own, since this gives the impression that he wanted an interesting climax between the Doctor and his opponent and ended up clutching at straws. We are also presented with some of the worst filler in the series' history, in the shape of the ghastly scenes at the twins' home and in the Space Police headquarters, more on which later. 

By far the worst aspect of 'The Twin Dilemma' is the script, which contains some of the most diabolical lines in the series history. Baker's extravagant performance means that he can just about get away with lines such as "Thou craggy knob!" and "We all know the fate of alien spies", but nobody else in the story is so lucky. Lines such as "If those twins have fallen into alien hands… this is something I've always feared!", "He's right commander, it wasn't built for warp drive", and most of all "And may my bones rot for obeying it" litter the script like turds on a beach. At the end of Episode One, Hugo kindly explains why he was going to kill the Doctor with a quick run down of what he's thinking at the time. Mestor says of the twins "Take care not to blow their hearts or minds!" and he later orders Azmael to give the twins artificial respiration when he tells him that they are tired. Draw your own conclusions. 

Then there is the characterisation and acting. Maurice Denham brings a certain dignity to the role of Azmael, which is a considerable bonus given that the script portrays him as a silly old fart. Exactly why the Jacondans accepted him as leader is unclear, since for all that that the Doctor proclaims him to the finest teacher that he ever had, he misses the flaw in Mestor's plan that is almost immediately obvious to the Doctor. Having said that, the final scene between the Doctor and Azmael is quite touching, as the old man dies in his former student's arms, telling him that the time they got drunk sitting on the edge of a fountain was one of the best moments of his life. Probably didn't get out much then. Joking aside, it is a great character moment and Denham and Baker do it justice. On the subject of Azmael however, I'd be fascinated to know what he was thinking when he adopted the alias Edgeworth for no apparent reason; presumably this alias, like the safe house on Titan 3, is intended to ensure that there is no trail to Jaconda, but it seems entirely unnecessary, with even Mestor calling him Edgeworth until the Doctor reveals his true name in Episode Two. 

Kevin McNally puts in a reasonable performance as Hugo Lang, but despite the praise his performance gets from fans of 'The Twin Dilemma', the character is a bit of a nonentity. Seymour Green's performance as the Chamberlain is also often praised, but the actual character is an ill timed and poorly scripted attempt to introduce comic relief into the proceedings. It is typical of 'The Twin Dilemma' in fact that it is the several really bad performances that are the most memorable. Everyone mentions the twins, and I'm not going to prove the exception to the rule; they are really, really bad actors. They are so bad in fact that I have a horrible suspicion that John Nathan-Turner said to Eric Saward one day "Hey, I've found a pair of twins we can cast! I don't know if they can act, but let's cobble together a story around them!". Mind you, in fairness to the Conrad brothers, if I was given those costumes and those hairstyles and put in front of a camera, I wouldn't exactly be trying my best. They too are cursed with atrocious dialogue, most notably during the horribly stilted "Mother's a fool!" scene with their father. Worse perhaps than the twins however are the space police, represented here by the vastly untalented Helen Blatch's Fabian, and her timid assistant Elena, played by Dione Inman. Elena is an astonishingly vacuous character, piping up with occasional lines of tripe in support of Hugo or in mild and slightly worried looking objection to Fabian's orders to leave the twins to their fate. Edwin Richfield, returning to Doctor Who after his impressive performance as Captain Hart back in 'The Sea Devils', here gets presented with a costume that makes him look both cross-eyed and constipated simultaneously. In a voice that makes him sound like he has a mouthful of food, he bellows crap dialogue and tries to sound menacing, but the odds are frankly against him. 

So much else is wrong with 'The Twin Dilemma'. The Jacondans look stupid; avian humanoids should not be realised by giving them a beak for a nose above an obviously mammalian mouth. Orville would have made a more convincing alien. The sets are awful, horribly tacky affairs littered with day-glow plastic, and in the case of Mestor's throne room a big frog. Peter Moffatt's direction is flat an uninspired, as signposted early on by lingering shots on the twins' equations, possibly a misguided attempt to show that the designer had come up with a funky alternative to numbers. Malcolm Clarke's incidental score isn't bad in places, but it is often both too strident and thoroughly intrusive. I could go on, but frankly I've had enough; 'The Twin Dilemma' is a poor end to Season Twenty-One, and a very poor debut for Colin Baker. Unfortunately, things don't improve much with the first story of the next season…

'The Trial of a Time Lord' Episodes One to Four, which I'm going to refer to by the novelisation title of 'The Mysterious Planet' for ease of reference, immediately grabs the attention for several reasons. For one thing, it has a memorably impressive opening shot of the TARDIS being plucked out of time and dragged to a Time Lord space station where the Doctor is subjected to an inquiry into his activities, which soon becomes a fully-fledged trial. This opening effects sequence is often accused of using up far more than its fair share of the season's budget, which is possibly true, but it does have the benefit of immediately grabbing the viewer's attention. Unfortunately, it is preceded by Dominic Glynn's neutered arrangement of the theme tune, which is so utterly irritating that it probably persuaded some viewers to change channels before they even got to see the TARDIS being captured.

The actual idea of the trial appeals to me a great deal, and the tactic of using complete stories as evidence should theoretically prevent it from getting boring. It has been argued that the length of 'The Trial of a Time Lord' might have put off casual viewers, but this would also be true of the twelve part 'The Daleks' Master Plan', a story which is rarely subjected to the same criticism. Besides, this is not a criterion upon which I'm judging the story. The initial set-up of the trial therefore works rather well and acts as a hook; it quickly becomes clear that the Valeyard has an agenda of his own, thanks to Michael Jayston's excellent portrayal. The Valeyard positively seethes with repressed hatred throughout whenever he speaks to the Doctor, and foreknowledge of what is revealed in Episode Thirteen adds interesting significance to the sheer contempt in his voice when he tells the Doctor "smugness does not become you". The fact that the Doctor's trial is motivated by something more than spurious Time Lord justice is hinted at several times throughout 'The Mysterious Planet'; the excision of data from the evidence, something the Valeyard is expecting but that the Inquisitor is not, makes it clear that there is an underlying mystery here, and for anyone who doesn't pick up on this, the Doctor lists unanswered questions for Peri in a rather unsubtle piece of dialogue at the end of the segment. There is also the Doctor's thoughtful "so, you want me dead, do you?" to the Valeyard at the beginning of Episode Two, which is the first real suggestion that the Valeyard has personal reasons for wanting to see the Doctor prosecuted. It's all rather intriguing at this point, and sets the scene for the remainder of the trial. 

The trial scenes also work reasonable well at this stage because they are used sparingly; when the evidence is interrupted, the dynamic between the three main characters succeeds in keeping things interesting. The growing animosity between the Doctor and the Valeyard works well, thanks largely to the juxtaposition of Baker's bombastic Doctor and Jayston's icy Valeyard. The pair manages to suggest real emotion, as the two characters increasingly come to despise one another as events progress. Having said which, the Doctor's various acerbic "yard" puns on the Valeyard's title quickly grow tiresome. Linda Bellingham's aloof Inquisitor is effective enough at keeping order, although the stupid lace trimmed collar she is given to wear is a horrible piece of costume design. Which leads me neatly into 'The Mysterious Planet' proper…

Whilst I generally rather enjoyed 'The Mysterious Planet' on this viewing, I do have several criticisms of it, a few of which I'll get out of the way in one fell swoop. Firstly, it looks cheap. The location footage, something from which the series always benefits, helps to compensate, but the interiors of the huts and the corridors of Marb station look dreadful. Money clearly hasn't been spent on the costumes either; aside from Glitz and Dibber everyone is dressed in wardrobe cast-offs. The underground dwellers look especially stupid, with everyone wearing spray-painted BMX helmets, except for Balazar who wears an incredibly silly balaclava. Possibly the Immortal knitted it for him for Christmas, and he doesn't want to upset him. 

Secondly, bearing in mind that Robert Holmes is my favourite Doctor Who writer, there are several touches in 'The Mysterious Planet' that are very disappointing. The most obvious of these are Humker and Tandrell, who are presumably meant to provide comic relief, but are actually not remotely amusing (nor for that matter are the Doctor's facile puns on their names, as he calls them Handrail and Humbug amongst other things). Partly this is because Billy McColl and Sion Tudor Owen are rather wooden in their roles, but mostly it's because their scripted dialogue is weak. The only interesting aspect to the characters is that they have passed a selection process to find the brightest students from amongst a population controlled by an unseen being worshipped as a god, whom they are then sent to. It is widely believed amongst the underground dwellers that the Immortal intended to eat them, whereas in fact they effectively become his students. The point of all of this is of course that it takes the central premise of Holmes' 'The Krotons' and twists it round. 

The other rather crap aspect of the script that I find disappointing is the subject of Black Light. Holmes used technobabble throughout his Doctor Who career, but never does it feel less convincing than it does here. The only purpose that the Black Light gibberish serves is that it ups the stakes from the deaths of everyone on Ravalox to possibly the destruction of the whole universe, and it just feels forced, since all it really does is facilitate the Doctor's smug gloating to the court that his supposed interference actually saved the universe. 

Despite all of this, there is much to enjoy in 'The Mysterious Planet'. Holmes brings some nice touches to the post-apocalypse society of Ravalox, such as Balazar's pride in the Books of Knowledge, which turn out to be Moby Dick, The Water Babies, and UK Habitats of the Canadian Goose. The alternately naпve and pompous Balazar is also rather well characterised, and Adam Blackwood plays the part very well, successfully conveying Balazar's mixture of confusion and wonderment as the Doctor turns his world upside down. On the subject of characterisation, Glitz and Dibber are arguably the last real Holmesian double act, and they too are well characterised. Glitz has a real edge here; despite his considerable flamboyance, he is has no qualms about killing and is prepared to gas the underground in his pursuit of profit. He also has a string of prison sentences behind him and claims to be wanted on a dozen worlds. But the script also uses him and Dibber as comic relief, and unlike Tandrell and Humker they work well in this respect, such as when Glitz is cheerfully discussing his own social maladjustment. Unfortunately, whilst the script works well, the acting doesn't. It came as a huge disappointment to me watching 'The Mysterious Planet' again to see just how terribly stilted Tony Selby's delivery of his lines is; he sounds throughout as though he's just reading his lines throughout rather than actually acting and given my fond memories of the character this comes as quite a blow. 

Unfortunately, Selby isn't alone in the dodgy acting stakes. Joan Simms is not as bad as Katryca as her reputation would suggest, but she gets very hammy once the Tribe of the Free enter the underground, although considering that she gets lines such as "Am I to be surrounded by fools?" I suppose she isn't entirely to blame. In addition, the eighteen-month hiatus seems to have taken its toll on Nicola Bryant; she seems tired with the roll of Peri during this segment of the trial, and her accent fluctuates alarmingly in Episode One. It doesn't help that she gets very little to do here except run around in search of the Doctor. Baker's performance too has suffered; the lack of bickering between the Doctor and Peri is presumably a deliberate attempt to mellow the Sixth Doctor, but the void that is left by the lack of antagonism in his character is often filled with buffoonery. I still like him in the role, but he's a lot less commanding here than he was in Season Twenty-Two. He is, as noted, better during the actual trial scenes, although when the Doctor tells the court that he always likes to do the expected, he comes across as such an imbecile that I find myself siding with the Valeyard. 

The other major character of 'The Mysterious Planet' is of course Drathro, and although he's basically just another megalomaniac computer but on legs, I quite like him. His design is very striking, partly because of his sheer size and because of his huge sickle-shaped head, although in a certain light parts of his torso look suspiciously like cardboard. But he also works as a character, Holmes' compensating for his direct characterisation of the Immortal's assistants by making Drathro himself far more interesting. Despite his talk of logic, he's bad tempered and egotistical and it seems to me that after the destruction of his power source, he becomes increasingly desperate to justify the need for his own survival with ever-more spurious logic The Doctor's attempt to persuade Drathro to sacrifice himself so that the Doctor can save the "work units" is one of Baker's few really great scenes outside of the courtroom during these four episodes, and Drathro's stubbornness to accept the Doctor's arguments about the sanctity of organic life seems more like fear of dying without a struggle than any sort of logic. 

Nicholas Mallett competently directs 'The Mysterious Planet', and there are some nice point of view shots from the perspective of the service robot. Incidentally, although the service robot looks like the bastard love child of a Dalek and a JCB, I find it quite impressive that the production team makes it look as though its caterpillar tracks actually work, simply because it's not something I've ever seen in Doctor Who before. On the other hand, Mallett starts the trend of ending episodes with a close-up of Colin Baker's face, which increasingly seems like self-parody as the trial continues. And whilst I'm still moaning, Dominic Glynn's incidental music is very intrusive. Overall, 'The Mysterious Planet' is a promising start to the season, albeit one that is not as strong as it could, or indeed should have been.